LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

. — 

Shelf ....[„.„.. 

UNITED STATES OF AMEKICA. 



GOLDEN TRUTHS 



EDITEJ> BY 

C A. MEANS 



"A WORD FITLY SPOKEN IS LIKE APPLES OF GOLD IN 
PICTURES OF SILVER." 



t 




BOSTON 
D. LOTHROP AND COMPANY 

FRANKLIN AND HAWLEY STREETS 



3£ Library 
r Congress 



WASHINGTON 



Copyright, i886, 

BY 

Miriam B. Means. 



PREFATORY. 



May these K words fitly spoken " strengthen 
the Inner Life in your soul; and, notwith- 
standing the Trials by the Way, may the 
Christian's Joy and Peace abide with you ! 
May you love to Work for Christ, and find 
the Unfailing Friend ever near to support 
and guide ! Then safe you shall rest in the 
Heavenly Home at last, every longing sat- 
isfied. 

C. A. M. 

Dorchester, Mass. 




The Inner Life 3 

Love to God - 3 

Prayer 7 

Sorrow for Sin • 26 

Faith and Trust 29 

Joy and Peace * • 47 

Trials by the Way 65 

Work for Christ 1 1 7 



The Unfailing Friend l 7S 

The Heavenly Home 211 



SELECTIONS 

Are made from the following Authors. 



Bethune, Dr. G. W. 

Boyd, Rev. A. H. K. ("Country 

Parson "). 
Bunyan, John. 
Bushnell, Dr. Horace. 
Chalmers, Dr. Thomas. 
Charles, Mrs. 
De Gasparin, Madame. 
Fenelon. 

Goulburn, Dr. E. M. 
Guthrie, Dr. Thomas. 
Hamilton, Dr. James. 

Upham, 



Huntington, Dr. F. D. 
Irving, Rev. Edward. 
Kingsley, Rev. Charles, 
Muller, Rev. Julius. 
Phelps, Prof. Austin. 
Robertson, Rev. F. W. 
Taylor, Bishop Jeremy. 
Tauler, Dr. John. 
Tholuck, Professor. 
Thompson, Dr. A. C. 
Trench, Archbishop. 
Tyng, Dr. S. H. 
Prof. T. C 



viii 



List of Authors. 



Adam of St. Victor, 
bonar, horatius. 
Browning, E. B. 
Burns, J. D. 
Faber, Frederick W. 
Francke, A. H. 
Gerhardt, Paul. 
Ingelow, Jean. 
Kimball, Harriet M. 
Liedich. 
Lowell, J. R. 
Lytk, H. F. 



Mardly, John. 
Mason, Caroline A. 
Pea body. 
Perkins, J. H. 
Priest, N. A. W. 
Procter, Adelaide A 

SlNOLD. 

Spitta. 

townsend, c. h. 
Trench, R. C. 
Waring, Anna L. 
Whittier, J. G. 
Williams, Isaac. 



THE INNER LIFE. 



14 Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit 

OF ITSELF, EXCEPT IT ABIDE IN THE VINE; NO MORE CAN YE, E XCFPT 
YE ABIDE IN ME." — John XV. 4. 



1 



THE INNER LIFE, 



" JF any man love the world, the love of the 
Father is not in him." Now, what we 
observe in this is, that St. John takes it for 
granted that we must love something. If not 
the love of the Father, then of necessity the 
love of the world. Love misplaced, or love 
rightly placed, — you have your choice be- 
tween these two : you have not your choice 
between loving God or nothing. No man is 
sufficient for himself. Every man must go out 
of himself for enjoyment. Something in this 
universe besides himself there must be to bind 
the affections of every man. There is that 
within us which compels us to attach ourselves 



4 



to something outward. The choice is not this, 
— Love, or be without love. You cannot give 
the pent-up steam its choice of moving or 
not moving. It must move one way or the 
other ; the right way or the wrong way. Direct 
it rightly, and its energy rolls the engine- 
wheels smoothly on their track : block up its 
passage, and it bounds away, a thing of mad- 
ness and ruin. Stop it you cannot : it will 
rather burst. So it is with our hearts. There 
is a pent-up energy of love, gigantic for good 
or evil. Its right way is in the direction of 
our Eternal Father; and then, let it boil and 
pant as it will, the course of the man is smooth. 
Expel the love of God from the bosom, — what 
then? Will the passion that is within cease to 
burn? Nay. Tie the man down; let there 
be no outlet for his affections ; let him attach 
himself to nothing, and become a loveless 
spirit in this universe, — and then there is what 
we call a broken heart : the steam bursts the 
machinery that contains it. Or else let him 
take his course, unfettered and free ; and then 



The Inner Life. 



5 



we have the riot of worldliness, — a man with 
strong affections thrown off the line, tearing 
himself to pieces, and carrying desolation along 
with him. Let us comprehend our own na- 
ture, ourselves, and our destinies. God is our 
rest, the only one that can quench the fever 
of our desire. God in Christ is what we want. 
When men quit that, so that " the love of the 
Father is not in them," then they must perforce 
turn aside : the nobler heart to break with dis- 
appointment; the meaner heart to love the 
world instead, and sate and satisfy itself, as 
best it may, on things that perish in the using. 
Herein lies the secret of our being, in this 
world of the affections. This explains why 
our noblest feelings lie so close to our basest ; 
why the noblest so easily metamorphose them- 
selves into the basest. The heart which was 
made large enough for God, wastes itself upon 
the world. 

F. W. Robertson. 



6 



The Inner Life. 



ERE is my heart : my God, I give it Thee. 



A I heard Thee call and say, 
44 Not to the world, my child, but unto me : " 
I heard, and will obey. 
Here is love's offering to my King, 
Which in glad sacrifice I bring, — 



Here is my heart : in Christ its longings end, 

Near to the cross it draws ; 
It says, " Thou art my portion, O my Friend I 
Thy blood my ransom was." 
And in the Saviour it has found 
What blessedness and peace abound, 



Here is my heart : ah ! Holy Spirit, come, 

Its nature to renew ; 
And consecrate it wholly as thy home, 
A temple fair and true. 
Teach it to love and serve Thee more, 
To fear Thee, trust Thee, and adore, 




Here is my heart. 



My trusting heart ! 



My cleansed heart ! 



Here is my heart : O Friend of friends ! be near 
To make the tempter fly ; 



The Inner Life. 



7 



And, when my latest foe I wait with fear, 
Give me the victory. 
Gladly on Thy love reposing, 
Let me say, when life is closing, 



OULD you know what is the method 



of nourishing the springs of the hid- 
den life, — of securing a reserve of oil? One 
word, understood in a broad and spiritual 
sense, represents the entire method, — Prayer. 
By Prayer we mean not the mere quarter of an 
hour, or half an hour, which a man spends on 
his knees daily ; but rather the spirit and tem- 
per of mind in which the Christian aims at 
going through his day. There may be stated 
prayer, recurring every morning and evening, 
without the hidden life ; and, conversely, there 
may be the hidden life, under circumstances 
which render stated prayer an impossibility. 
The prayer we speak of is that which mixes 



64 Here is my heart; 



LlEDICH. 




s 



The Inner Life. 



itself up with all our actions and recreations ; 
as a lump of some solid substance, whose 
nature is to melt in liquid, gives a taste to every 
drop of the liquid in which it is allowed to 
stand awhile. But it too often happens, that 
the prayer of stated periods, though attentively 
and devoutly said, stands isolated and alone, 
and never manages to transfuse its sweetness 
into our ways, character, and conduct. Such 
prayer is not for a moment to be identified 
with the hidden life. And, on the other hand, 
although we have said that the external life 
of service and profession consumes the grace 
which is ministered inwardly, this is only true 
so far as the external life is external. The life 
of active service may be so conducted as to 
secure fresh supplies of grace. If, in every 
part of his active work for God, the Christian 
sets God before him ; if he is very jealous of 
the purity of his motives and the rectitude 
of his intentions, and very self-searching on 
these points ; if he pauses awhile, amidst his 
occupations, to realize the presence of God; if 



The Inner Life. 



9 



he offers up all the works of his calling to God 
in the union of our Lord's death and passion ; 
if he is diligent in ejaculatory prayer ; if, even 
in the little crosses and annoyances of the day, 
he regards the will of God who sends them, 
and takes them accordingly with sweetness and 
buoyancy of spirit ; if he cultivates the habit 
of allowing the objects of nature and passing 
events to remind him of spiritual truth, and 
lead his mind upward ; if, in short, he turns 
each incident of life into a spiritual exercise, 
and extracts from each a spiritual good, — then 
he is cultivating the internal life, while he en- 
gages in the external: and while, on the one 
hand, he is expending the oil of grace, he is, 
on the other, laying in a fresh stock of it in his 
oil-vessels. 

Resolve to know much of the inward life of 
Religion. Cultivate in every possible way a 
spirit of private devotion. Determine to know 
the power of Prayer, as distinct from its form. 
Practise more and more, in all companies and 
under all circumstances, the thought of the 



IO 



The Inner Life. 



Presence of God. Seek more and more to 
throw a spiritual meaning and significance into 
your pursuits ; to do it more simply and exclu- 
sively from the motive of pleasing God, and 
less from all other motives. Try, by a holy 
intention, to give even to the more trifling 
actions of the day a religious value. This will 
be feeding the light with oil. 

To be true to God and His Presence all day 
long, and to let self occupy as little as possible 
of our thoughts ; to care much for His ap- 
proval, and comparatively little for the impres- 
sion we are making on others ; to feed the 
inward light with oil, and then freely to allow 
it to shine, — this is the great secret of edifica- 
tion. 



More filled with grace divine ! 
Oh would that I were surer, Lord, 

That my whole heart is Thine ! 
Were it so pure that I might see 
Thy beauty, I would grow like Thee. 



GOULBURN. 




H would that I were purer, Lord, — 



The Inner Life. 



it 



Oh would that I could higher, Lord, 

Above these senses live ! 
Each feeling, each desire, my Lord, 

Could wholly to Thee give ! 
The love I thus would daily share, 
That Love alone, would make me fair. 

Elim j 



^^HRIST'S life was not a flying from the 
world, lest it should stain and defile Him; 
but a mingling with the world, that He might 
cleanse and purify it. In crowded streets, at 
marriage festivals, in the concourse of cities, 
amid all the busiest haunts of men, wherever 
there was a want to relieve, or a woe to 
assuage, or a sin to rebuke, He was there, 
shedding round Him the healing influences of 
His presence and His power. And yet such a 
life as this, lived for men and among men, 
noble and blessed as it was, needed that it 
should have its breaks, — that the burden of 
it should not be continuous. Even He whose 
spiritual strength is so immeasurably greater 



12 



than ours, whose whole life was in some sort 
one long, connected prayer, — even He needed, 
from time to time, to be more especially alone 
with God, to draw new strength and joy from 
a more fixed contemplation of His heavenly 
Father's face. 

And if this was needful for Him, how much 
more for all others ! For as He was in the 
world, so are we, — the only difference being, 
that we lie open to the injurious influences 
which it exerts, as He neither did nor could; 
that the evil in the world finds an echo and an 
answer in our hearts, which it found not at all 
in His. In a world where there is so much to 
ruffle the spirit's plumes, how needful that en- 
tering into the secret of His pavilion, which 
will alone bring it back to composure and 
peace ! In a world where there is so much to 
sadden and depress, how blessed that commu- 
nion with Him in whom is the one source and 
fountain of all true gladness and abiding joy ! 
In a world where so much is ever seeking to 
unhallow our spirits, to render them common 



The Inner Life. 



1.3 



and profane, how high the privilege of conse- 
crating them anew in prayer to holiness and to 
God! 

Has God made a breach upon us? Has the 
cup of pain, which comes to all, come also to 
us and to our lips? Have we, too, discovered, 
that with the heritage of Adam's sin we have 
the heritage of Adam's sorrow, however for a 
moment it might have seemed as though we 
were to be exempt? Where, but in Him who 
smites, where, but in the smiter, shall we find 
the Healer? — where, but in His hand who 
made the wound, the balm and the medicine 
that can make us bear its present smart, and 
expect its future cure? 

Or are there times when all things here 
seem hollow and unreal, with vanity and emp- 
tiness written upon them, — times when there 
seems to us, as there seemed once to the royal 
preacher at Jerusalem, no profit to a man of 
any labor wrought under the sun, but vanity 
of vanities, and all vanity? What help is there 
against this, the worst sickness of the soul, 



i/j. The Inner Life. 

save in laying hold of Him who is not hollow, 
not unreal, not a shadow nor a dream, who 
abides for ever, and who causes His servants 
to inherit substance ; what help but in laying 
hold of Him, as He can be only laid hold of in 
prayer? 

Or, again, are there other times when the 
world threatens to become too much to us, the 
near hillocks of time to hide from us the more 
distant mountains of eternity, earth's tinsel to 
outshine heaven's gold? It is in God, in the 
light of His presence, as we press into that 
presence, that all things assume their due pro- 
portions, are seen in their true significance, — ■ 
the tinsel for tinsel, the gold for gold ; that the 
hillocks subside, and the mountain-tops re- 
appear ; that the shadows flee away, and the 
eternal substances remain. 

Or is there some unwelcome task to be done, 
to which duty* plainly points, but which we 
would fain avoid, — some cross which our God 
would have us to take up, but from which we 
shrink with a shuddering fear? It is onk' m 



The Inner Life. 



Him from whom all strength proceeds, who 
bore His own cross so meekly up the hill of 
scorn, that we shall find a strength which is 
equal to this need, 

Or do we need (and who is there that does 
not need?) that peace which is above all peace, 
that purged conscience which only the precious 
blood of the Lamb slain before the foundation 
of the world can impart? It is in prayer to the 
Father of mercies, as He may be approached 
through His dear Son, that this boon and 
blessing, — the best even in the rich treasury of 
heaven, — this conscience purged from sin, from 
its guilt, its stain, and its power, can be ob- 
tained. 

Consider the great High Priest of our pro- 
fession, who Himself showed the way of 
obedience to His own precept, "That men 
ought always to pray, and not to faint," Con- 
sider, too, for ourselves, the blessedness of 
being allowed to bathe our spirit's wings, as 
in living streams ; of running, and not being 
weary ; of being able to bring every thing that 



i6 



The Inner Life. 



in distorted within us, that it may be made 
straight; every thing that is weak, that it may 
be strengthened ; all that is dark, that it may be 
illumined: all that is rebellious, that it may 
be subdued. Consider this, and Who it is that 
invites, beckons, entreats, commands us to this ; 
and then consider how great at once our guilt 
and our folly must be, if, with such a throne 
of grace provided for us, we only approach it 
languidly and rarely ; if, with such powers of 
the world to come brought within our reach, 
we do not earnestly lay hold of them ; how 
just our doom will be, if, when God was ready 
to give, we did not care to ask; if, when He 
was waiting to be found, we were not willing 
to seek ; if, when heaven's door would have 
opened to our knocking, we counted ourselves 
so far unworthy of eternal life, or rather 
counted eternal life so little to us, that we did 
not care so much as earnestly to knock at that 
door. 

R. C. Trench 



The Inner Life. 



17 



/^OD, Thou art my rock of strength. 

And my home is in Thine arms ; 
Thou wilt send me help at length, 
And I feel no wild alarms. 
Sin nor death can pierce the shield 
Thy defence has o'er me thrown ; 
Up to Thee myself I yield, 
And my sorrows are Thine own. 

Christians, cast on Him your load, 
To your tower of refuge fly ; 
Know He is the living God, 
Ever to His creatures nigh. 
Seek His ever open door, 
In your hours of utmost need ; 
All your hearts before Him pour, 
He will send you help with speed. 

A. H. Francke. 

get a firm grasp of truth by prayer. 
Communion with Christ is the best 
proof of Christ's existence and Christ's love. 
It is so even in human life. Misgivings gather 



i8 



darkly round our heart about our friend in his 
absence ; but we seek his frank smile, we feel 
his affectionate grasp : our suspicions go to 
sleep again. It is just so in religion. No man 
is in the habit of praying to God in Christ, and 
then doubts whether Christ is He " that should 
come." It is in the power of prayer to realize 
Christ, to bring Him near, to make you feel 
His life stirring like a pulse within you. Jacob 
could not doubt whether he had been with God 
when his sinew shrunk. John could not doubt 
whether Jesus was the Christ, when the things 
He had done were pictured out so visibly in 
answer to his prayer. Let but a man live 
with Christ, anxious to have his own life de- 
stroyed and Christ's life established in its place, 
losing himself in Christ, — that man will have 
all his misgivings silenced. These are the 
two remedies for doubt, —-Activity and Prayer. 
He who works, and feels he works; he who 
prays, and knows he prays, — has got the secret 
of transforming life-failure into life-victory. 

F. W. Robertson. 



The Inner Life. 



*9 



H, this is blessing, this is rest ! — 



Into Thine arms, O Lord ! I flee ; 
I hide me in Thy faithful breast, 
And pour out all my soul to Thee, 
There is a host dissuading me ; 
But, all their voices far above, 
I hear Thy words, " Oh, taste and see 
The comfort of a Saviour's love ! " 
And, hushing every adverse sound, 
Songs of defence my soul surround, 
As if all saints encamped about 
One trusting heart pursued by doubt. 
And oh, how solemn, yet how sweet, 
Their one assured, persuasive strain ! — 
" The Lord of Hosts is thy retreat, 
The Man who bore thy sin, thy pain. 
Still in His hand thy times remain ; 
Still of His body thou art part : 
And He will prove His right to reign 
O'er all things that concern thy heart." 

0 tenderness ! O truth divine ! 
Lord, I am altogether thine. 

1 have bowed down ; I need not flee : 
Peace, peace is mine in trusting Thee. 




A. L. Waring. 



20 



The Inner Life 



!^"E must gray zvith love. It is love, says 
St. Augustine, that asks, that seeks, 
that knocks, that finds, and that is faithful 
to what it hnds. We cease to prav to God 
as soon as we cease to love Him. — as soon as 
we cease to thirst for His perfections. The 
coldness of our love is the silence of cur hearts 
toward God. Without this, we mav pronounce 
prayers ; but we do not pray : for what shall 
lead us to meditate upon the laws of God. if it 
be not the love of Him who has made these 
laws? Let our hearts be full of love. then, and 
they will pray. Happy are they who think 
seriously of the truths of religion ; but far 
more hauov are thev who feel and love them. 

A A J » 

We must ardently desire, that God will grant 
us spiritual blessings; and the ardor of our 
wishes must render us ht to receive the bless- 
ings. For. if we pray onlv from custom, from 
fear, in the time of tribulation : if we honor 
God only with our lips, while our hearts are 
far from Him ; if we do not feel a strong de- 



The Inner Life. 



21 



sire for the success of our prayers ; if we feel 
a chilling indifference in approaching Him 
who is a consuming lire ; if we have no zeal 
for His glory ; if we do not feel hatred for sin 
and a thirst for perfection, — we cannot hope 
for a blessing upon such heartless prayers, 

We must pray with perseverance. The per- 
fect heart is never weary of seeking God. 
Ought we to complain if God sometimes leaves 
us to obscurity and doubt and temptation ? 
How often do we hear those, who every day 
have to reproach themselves with unfaithful- 
ness toward God. complain that lie refuses to 
answer their prayers? Ought they not to ac- 
knowledge, that it is their sins which have 
formed a thick cloud between Heaven and 
them, and that God has justly hidden Himself 
from them? How often has He recalled us 
from our wanderings ! How often, ungrateful 
as we are, have we been deaf to His voice, and 
insensible to His goodness ! He would make 
us feel that we are blind and miserable, when 
we forsake Him. He would teach us, by pri- 



22 



The Inner Life. 



vation, the value of the blessings that we have 
slighted. And shall we not bear our punish- 
ment with patience? Who can boast of having 
done all that he ought to have done ; of hav- 
ing repaired all his past errors ; of having 
purified his heart, so that he may claim as a 
right, that God should listen to his prayer? 
Most truly, all our pride, great as it is, would 
not be sufficient to inspire such presumption. 
If, then, the Almighty do not grant our peti- 
tions, let us adore His justice, let us be silent, 
let us humble ourselves, and let us pray with- 
out ceasing. This humble perseverance will 
obtain from Him what we should never obtain 
by our own merit. It will make us pass hap- 
pily from darkness to light ; for know, says 
St. Augustine, that God is near to us, even 
when He appears far from us. 

Fenelon, 



The Inner Life, 



TI)RAY, though the gift you ask for 

May never comfort your fears, 
May never repay your pleading : 



Yet pray, and with hopeful tears. 
An answer — not that you sought for, 

But diviner — will come one day : 
Your eyes are too dim to see it ; 

Yet strive and wait and pray. 



NY life which is not more or less interior, 



is certainly not the life of the Spirit. 
Any life which is so busy as to leave no room 
for meditation and devout affection ; any life 
which spends all its energies in external work, 
without ever rallying or recollecting itself at its 
source, — is certainly not the life of the Spirit. 
Any Martha's life, cumbered about much serv- 
ing, but neglectful of sitting at the feet of the 
Divine Master, is certainly not the life of 
the Spirit. But we must say more. Not even 



A. A. Procter, 




The Inner Life. 



are private religious exercises, independently 
of the mind in which they are performed, the 
life of the Spirit. Confession of sin, without 
a deep and humbling sense of it, is not Spirit- 
ual Life. And what must we say of a deep 
and humbling sense of it which does not liter- 
ally take the outward form of confession? We 
must say, that with God it is confession, al- 
though the mouth may have uttered no sounds, 
and the mind framed no words. The asking 
of God certain graces, without a longing to be 
holier, is not Spiritual Life. And what of the 
lonoW to be holier, if it should not find occa- 
sion to burst forth in actual prayer? It is 
prayer in God's eyes; and no prayer is so 
which does not involve a movement of desire 
in the heart. 

" Blessed are the poor in spirit ; for theirs is 
the kingdom of heaven." To be beaten utterly 
out of conceit with one's own strength, goodness, 
and wisdom; to feel, that, apart from God's 
grace, we are nothing, can do nothing ; to be 
assured that our best resolves are like water or 



The Inner Life. 



25 



stubble ; to re-echo, with the full and intelligent 
consent of our hearts, the Apostle's confession, 
"I know that in me — that is, in my flesh — 
dwelleth no good thing ; " to write upon our old 
nature "Incorrigible ; " and to depend with great 
simplicity upon Christ for all things, — this is 
the grace w r hich lies at the foundation of every 
other, and which is matured and confirmed 
and deepened in us at every step in advance. 



Walk humbly with thy God. 

The lowly spirit God hath consecrated 

As His abiding rest : 
An angel by some patriarch's tent hath waited, 

When kings had no such guest. 



Goulburn. 




26 



The Inner Life. 



"\T7E must humble ourselves before God; 

that is, our grief for sin must be in 
view of the fact, that we have grieved our 
Maker : and this our grief must be expressed 
in a confession before Him. A certain kind of 
grief for sins and vices is indeed experienced 
by all ; but it is difficult to believe in how 
many cases this is simply and solely a humilia- 
tion for the sake of men, — for the sake of the 
injury and the shame which we have prepared 
for ourselves in the sight of others. Yea, so 
incessantly do we glance our eyes toward men, 
that we may say it w^ould be a very great ad- 
vance in piety, if one should attain such a state 
as to grieve over each of his iniquities, simply 
because it had offended his God and Lord. 
Even from early childhood, we are instructed, 
in these modern times, to fix our eyes, in com- 
mitting iniquity, only upon the opinions of our 
fellow-mortals. It is no longer said, as for- 
merly, to the child, w Do not that thing : the 
beloved Lord sees it : n it is now said, "Be 



The Inner Life. 



27 



well behaved: what will the people say?" 
And so, therefore, we grow up, our glance 
directed always to men alone ; and, if we are 
ever ashamed of our vices, it is on account of 
the eye of man, and not on account of that 
Eye which seeth the hidden recess of the 
heart. 

Oh that you might again understand the high 
and holy meaning of the word religion! What 
meaning has it, other than regard for God? It 
is such a disposition of the inner man, as leads 
him to look through all things, — through 
nature, through art, through his goods, through 
his palaces, through his tears of joy and 
through his tears of sorrow, — through all to 
God. But if there must be religion, a regard 
to God, even in our sorrow for sin, how should 
it be exercised ? Our sorrow must arise from 
this, — that our iniquities have grieved our 
Maker. What says David, when he had com- 
mitted a grievous crime against his fellow- 
men? ? 'Lord, against Thee only have I 
sinned," he cries. Not that he wished to hide 



28 



The Inner Life. 



from himself the truth, that he had committed 
a sad offence against his brother ; but the fact 
that he had, in sinning against his brother, 
sinned also against the commandment of his 
Creator, — this is the sting which most deeply 
pierces his conscience ; this it is which makes 
his pain so heart-rending. 

Tholuck 



OLORD ! turn not Thy face away 
From them that lowly lie, 
Lamenting sore their sinful life, 

With tears and bitter cry. 
Thy mercy gates are open wide 

To them that mourn their sin : 
Oh, shut them not against us, Lord, 
But let us enter in ! 

We need not to confess our fault : 

For surely Thou canst tell 
What we have done ; and what we are 

Thou knowest very well. 



The Inner Life. 



29 



Wherefore, to beg and to entreat, 
With tears we come to Thee, 

As children that have done amiss 
Fall at their father's knee. 

And need we then, O Lord ! repeat 

The blessing which we crave, 
When Thou dost know, before we speak, 

The thing that we would have ? 
Mercy, O Lord ! mercy we ask, — 

This is the total sum ; 
For mercy, Lord, is all our prayer : 

Oh, let Thy mercy come ! 



Variation by Bishop Heber, 

From John Mardly, 1562, 



UR sanctification is in Christ, not inde- 



pendent of Him, and therefore not to be 
had independently. Touch His sacred Person 
in simple faith, that in Him doth all fulness 
dwell, — fulness of light and love, of holy- 
tempers, holy impulses, and of all the fruits of 
the Spirit, and the virtue which is in Him 




30 



The Inner Life. 



shall instantly begin to flow through the chan- 
nel which faith has opened into your soul. 
This is His own teaching, not ours : "Abide in 
Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear 
fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine ; no 
more can ye, except ye abide in Me. I am 
the vine ; ye are the branches : he that abideth 
in Me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth 
much fruit : for without Me ye can do nothing." 
"Ye can do nothing," — not advance a step in 
love, joy, or peace, or in any grace which 
qualifies for Heaven. 

The sap circulates through the living branch 
of the vine, but not independently or apart from 
the root and stock of the tree. Separated 
from the tree, the branch has no life whatever, 
and is unable to put forth a single bud or blos- 
som. The sap in the branch is not from or of 
the branch : it is only derivative, — drawn from 
the living energies of the root and stem. And 
so the Christian's holiness : it is never held inde- 
pendently, but derived from the fountain-head 
of holiness ; and that fountain-head is Christ. 



The Inner Life. 



31 



And what we have to do is, to keep open con- 
tinually the communication between Christ and 
the soul, by repeated exercises of the same 
simple faith (or trust) in Him, which at first 
was the instrument of our justification. We 
stretched forth the hand of faith, and received 
out of Christ the forgiveness which He pur- 
chased for us : we must stretch it forth again 
and again and again, to receive that meetness 
for glory which He gradually imparts. With- 
out holding this fundamental truth before our 
eyes ; without the most entire trust in Christ, to 
work in us every grace of the Christian charac- 
ter, and the utter renunciation of trust in our- 
selves, — all our efforts in the pursuit of holiness 
will be only an unblessed toiling, — so much 
work and worry and fruitless striving, without 
any appreciable result. 

GOULBURN 



3 2 The Inner Life. 



HHHE light and strength of faith, oh, grant, 

That I may bring forth holy fruit, — 
A living branch, a blooming plant, 

Fast clinging to my vine, my root ! 
Thou art my Saviour, whom I trust, 
My Rock, — I build not on the dust, — 

The ground of faith, eternal, sure. 
When hours of doubt o'ercloud my mind, 
Thy ready help then let me find ; 

Thy strength my sickening spirit cure. 

Nor let my hope e'er fade away, 

Thy cross the anchor of my heart ; 
But let her rise o'er fear, dismay, 

Conqueror through Thee ; mine all Thou art. 
The world may build on what decays ; 
O Christ, my Sun of Hope ! my gaze 

Cares not o'er lesser lights to range. 
To Thee, in Love, I ever cleave ; 
For we.U I know Thou ne'er wilt leave 

My soul : Thy love can never change. 

SlNOLD, 

"Y'OUR Father sendeth you your title of 
sonship : why take you it not up ? He 
adopteth you into His family from the place of 



The Inner Life. 



33 



a servant : why go you not in ? He openeth to 
you His bosom: why go you not forward 
to embrace Him? He stretcheth you out the 
golden sceptre, as to His queen : why goest 
thou not forth to touch it, and seat thyself by 
His side, in glorious majesty? What meaneth 
this burden-bearing bondage, these stripes of 
fear, this sadness, this despair? Be done with 
this grief on thine own account : thy account 
is settled, and thy burden is cast upon the 
Lord. Come in, the Lord hath need of thy 
griefs ; but thou must first be assured, that thou 
art His son ; and as a son thou must lie in thy 
Father's bosom, and hear the whisperings of 
His love, the sighings of His sorrow, the heav- 
ings of His troubled heart: then go forth, im- 
pregnated with the like generous disposition of 
loving and saving sinners ; and begin to endure 
all things, in order to bring thy God's love near 
to the ears of savage men. Thou must believe 
that Jesus hath made thy griefs His, and borne 
them all; and now, in thy ton, thou must 
make His griefs thine, and bear them forth, and 

3 



34 



The Inner Life. 



sing them to the desert winds, if the hearts of 
men be too hard to hearken unto thee. To 
suffer is our calling, —to have the full fellowship 
of Christ's sufferings, and to be conformed unto 
His death ; but no one can touch with his little 
finger this mighty load, unless he do first be- 
lieve himself to be a son, and get quit of his 
own guilty fears. Every particle of suffering 
which ariseth from the sting of past guilt, or 
from the rankling pain of abiding roots of sin, 
or from the shame of exposure, or from the 
actual exposure of our crimes, is not suffering 
for righteousness' sake, is no fellowship of 
Christ's sufferings, but the punishment of un- 
belief and actual wickedness. Therefore be- 
lieve thou, O sinner ! that thy guilt is atoned 
for, and break off thy sins by repentance, and 
lead a holy life by the washing of regeneration 
and the renewing of the Holy Ghost ; and then 
shalt thou begin to suffer with Christ, and to 
bear the burden of the sorrows of God. 

E. Irving. 



The Inner Life. 35 



I HAVE no help but Thine ; nor do I need 
Another arm save Thine to lean upon. 
It is enough, my Lord, enough indeed : 
My strength is in Thy might, Thy might alone. 

I have no wisdom, save in Him who is 
My wisdom and my teacher both in one : 
No wisdom can I lack while Thou art wise ; 
No teaching do I crave save Thine alone. 

Mine is the sin, but Thine the righteousness ; 
Mine is the guilt, but Thine the cleansing blood : 
Here is my robe, my refuge, and my peace, — 
Thy blood, Thy righteousness, O Lord, my God ! 

H. BONAR. 



/^B SERVE the consciousness of strength, 
and the exalted confidence of feeling, 
that must gird any soul that has truly put on 
Christ. It will be with him, in his faith, as it 
was with the prodigal, when the father said, 
« Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him ; 
and put a ring on his finger, and shoes on his 



36 



The Inner Life. 



feet." F rom that moment he felt strong in the 
family. The shame fell off as the robe went 
on; and the confidence of a son came back 
upon him. So it is that every Christian is 
strong who has really put on Christ. He is 
clothed with strength and honor, as with salva- 
tion. He lives in the garment of praise. All 
misgivings flee ; all mutinous passions fall un- 
der. Do you sometimes try to be strong by 
your will, strong by your works, strong by what 

you can raise of excitement or high resolve? 

that is only weakness : and a great part of all 
weakness comes in that way. Nothing is more 
natural for a Christian losing ground, than to 
put forth all the force he has, in a strain of 
hard endeavor, lashing up and thrusting on 
himself; but in that, he is believing, probably, 
just as much less as he is goading himself 
more. Let him go back to faith, — see that he 
lets go mere self-endeavor, to put on Christ; 
and he will have all strength and victory. 

Here, too, be it understood, is the source of 
that strange power of impression which is felt 



The Inner Life. 



37 



in the life and society of all earnest Christians. 
Everybody feels that there is a something about 
them not human. And the reason is, that they 
have put on Christ. The serious, loving, gen- 
tle, sacrificing, and firm spirit of Jesus is re- 
vealed within or upon them ; and they signify 
to men's feeling just what He signified. They 
fulfil that gracious name, that was formerly in 
so great favor in the Church, —they are all 
Christophers, Christ-bearers. They will even 
put so much meaning into their K good-morn- 
ing," or their bow of courtesy, as to carry a 
Christly impression in the heart of a stranger. 
This is the true power. Would that the multi- 
tude in our day, who can think to be powerful 
only as they strive and cry, and go dinning 
through the world in a perpetual ado of hard 
endeavor, could just learn how much it means 
to put on Christ ! 

H. BUSHNELL. 



38 



The Inner Life, 



TF Thou, True Life, wilt in me live, 

Consume whatever is not of Thee : 
One look of Thine more joy can give 
Than all the world can offer me. 
O Jesus ! be Thou mine for ever ; 
Nought from Thy love my heart can sever : 
That Thou hast promised in Thy Word. 
Oh, deep the joy whereof I drink, 
Whene'er my soul in Thee can sink, 
And own her Bridegroom and her Lord ! 

SlNOLD. 



pAITH is indeed itself the gift of God ; but 
if there is any true longing in you after 
Christ, any true repentance for having left Him 
and His righteousness unclaimed so long, 
He will give you that faith whereby you may 
appropriate all the benefits of His life and 
death, His resurrection and His glory. Put 
Him on, then, for you may do so ; clothe your- 
self with Him, and He shall be to you armor 
of light, a light and a defence, a sun and a 



The Inner Life. 



39 



shield. And then many darts of the wicked 
may fly around you and about you, but they 
shall not hurt you ; they shall fall off or glance 
aside from those radiant arms : and when 
Christ, who is our life, shall appear, you shall 
appear with Him in glory. It must be so. If 
He has made you here to love holiness, good- 
ness, mercy, truth, His kingdom, the kingdom 
which He shall set up, shall be a kingdom of 
all these. How, then, should you not have 
your place in it? and the more earnestly you 
have loved and followed these, the higher place 
and the nearer to Him. 

Put on, then, this armor, this whole armor, 
of God : put it on piece by piece, — the helmet 
of hope, the breastplate of faith and love, tak- 
ing in your hand the sword of the Spirit, which 
is the Word of God : be complete in Him. 
The kingdom of darkness can only harm those 
who by natural affinity belong to it, — the un- 
loving, the untruthful, the unmerciful, the 
unholy. 

These are its victims : against these the 



4° 



The Inner Life. 



powers of darkness prevail, and on these the 
chains of darkness are laid. But walk in love ; 
walk in holiness ; walk in sincerity and truth ; 
walk, which is the same thing, in the light of 
the Lord, — and none of these things shall by 
any means hurt you. The same which is your 
glory shall be also your defence ; that which 
is your sun shall be also your shield. And 
when He comes at length, who is the light, as 
He is the life, of men ; when there is no longer 
a foe to be resisted, a darkness to be scattered, 
a weapon to be turned aside ; when, therefore, 
armor is needed no more, — that armor of light 
will become a vesture of light ; the garment of 
peace, instead of the panoply of war; a shin- 
ing garment of immortality ; a wedding gar- 
ment, admitting you, without rebuke, to the 
marriage supper of the Lamb. 

R. C. Trench 



The Inner Life* 



4i 



T TAST thou the love of Christ, 
Thy Saviour, known, — 
The love that passeth knowledge ; the rich grace 
That stooped to poverty and death, to place 
Thee on His throne ? 



Live, then, the life of faith, — 

The life divine. 
Live in and o?z this ever-living One, 
Who bears thee on His heart before the throne : 

His life is thine. 

Pass on from strength to strength ; 

Faint not, nor yield. 
With girded loins press on, — the goal is near ; 
With ready sword fight God's great battle here : 

Win thou the field. 



No rest nor slumber now ; 

Watch, and be strong. 
Love is the smoother of the rugged way ; 
And Hope at midnight, as in brightest day, 

Breaks forth in song. 

H. BONAR* 



4 2 



The Inner Life. 



JUST so far as a Christian is led by the 
Spirit, he is a Conqueror. A Christian in 
full possession of his privileges is a man whose 
very step ought to have in it all the elasticity 
of triumph, and whose very look ought to have 
in it all the brightness of victory. And just 
so far as a Christian suffers sin to struggle 
in him and overcome his resolutions, just so 
far he is under the law. That is the key to 
the whole doctrine of the New Testament. 
From first to last, the great truth put forward 
is, The law can neither save you nor sanctify 
you. The gospel can do both ; for it is rightly 
and emphatically called "the perfect law of 
liberty." 

All doubt comes from living out of habits 
of affectionate obedience to God. By idleness, 
by neglected prayer, we lose our power of 
realizing things not seen. Let a man be re- 
ligious and irreligious at intervals; irregular, 
inconsistent, without some distinct thing to live 
for, — it is a matter of impossibility that he can 



The Inner Life. 



43 



be free from doubts. He must make up his 
mind for a dark life. Doubts can only be dis- 
pelled by that kind of active life that realizes 
Christ. And there is no faith that gives a vic- 
tory so steadily triumphant as that. When 
such a man comes near the opening of the 
vault, it is no world of sorrows he is entering 
upon. He is only going to see things that he 
has felt; for he has been living in heaven. 
He has his grasp on things that other men are 
only groping after, and touching now and then. 
Live above this world ; and then the powers of 
the world to come are so upon you, that there 
is no room for doubt. 

It is not only in those passionate effusions in 
which the ancient martyrs spoke sometimes of 
panting for the crushing of their limbs by the 
lions in the amphitheatre, or of holding out 
their arms to embrace the flames that were to 
curl round them, — it is not then only that Christ 
has stood by His servants, and made them 
more than conquerors : there may be some- 
thing of earthly excitement in all that. Every 



44 



The Inner Life. 



day His servants are dying modestly and 
peacefully : not a word of victory on their 
lips, but Christ's deep triumph in their hearts; 
watching the slow progress of their own decay, 
and yet so far emancipated from personal 
anxiety, that they are still able to think and 
to plan for others, not knowing that they are 
doing any great thing. They die, and the 
world hears nothing of them ; and yet theirs 
was the completest victory. They came to the 
battle-field, — the field to which they had been 
looking forward all their lives ; and the enemy 
was not to be found. There was no foe to 
fight with. 

If we would be conquerors, we must realize 
God's love in Christ. Take care not to be 
under the law. Constraint never yet made a 
conqueror : the utmost it can do is to make 
either a rebel or a slave. Believe that God 
loves you. He gave a triumphant demonstra- 
tion of it in the Cross. Never shall we conquer 
self, till we have learned to love. Let us re- 
member our high privilege. Christian life, so 



The Inner Life. 45 

far as it deserves the name, is victory. We are 
not going forth to mere battle : we are going 
forth to conquer. To gain mastery over self 
and sin and doubt and fear, till the last cold- 
ness, coming across the brow, tells us that all 
is over, and our warfare accomplished, — that 
we are safe, the everlasting arms beneath us, — 
that is our calling. Beloved, do not be content 
with a slothful, dreamy, uncertain struggle. 
We are to conquer; and the banner under 
which we are to win is not Fear, but Love. 
"The strength of sin is the law : " the victory 
is by keeping before us God in Christ. 

F. W. Robertson, 



♦ 



T ONG did I toil, and knew no earthly rest ; 

Far did I rove, and found no certain home 2 
At last I sought them in His sheltering breast 
Who opes His arms, and bids the weary come. 
With Him I found a home, a rest divine ; 
And I since then am His, and He is mine. 



4<5 



The June?' Life. 



Yes, He is mine : and nought of earthly things — 
Not all the charms of pleasure, wealth, or power, 
The fame of heroes or the pomp of kings — 
Could tempt me to forego His love an hour. 
Go, worthless world, I cry, with all that's thine ; 
Go : I my Saviour's am, and He is mine. 

The good I have is from His stores supplied ; 
The ill is only what He deems the best : 
He for my Friend, I'm rich with nought beside, 
And poor without Him, though of all possest. 
Changes may come : 1 take, or I resign ; 
Content while I am His, and He is mine. 

Whate'er may change, in Him no change is seen, — < 
A glorious Sun that wanes not nor declines : 
Above the clouds and storms He walks serene, 
And sweetly on his people's darkness shines. 
All may depart : I fret not nor repine, 
While I my Saviour's am, while He is mine. 

He stays me falling, lifts me up when down ; 
Reclaims me wandering, guards from every foe ; 
Plants on my worthless brow the victor's crown, 
Which, in return, before His feet I throw, — 
Grieved that I cannot better grace His shrine 
Who deigns to own me His, as He is mine. 

H. F. Lyte 



The Inner Life. 



47 



J_JOW many persons seek contentment, seek 
peace, seek joy ! But they do not find 
them. They are continually complaining of 
their troubles and afflictions. They strive to 
escape from them, but they do not succeed. 
And why not? It is because they get out of 
the great Centre ; and, being out of it, their 
hearts and their conduct are not in harmony 
with the Divine providences : and therefore 
they must be unhappy. 

Madame Adorna gave herself to the Lord 
in faith, and the Lord accepted her. "She 
loved God, and God loved her." This was the 
state of her mind at morning, noon, and night. 
She was not one of those Christians who are 
sometimes on the mount and sometimes in the 
valley. She was on the mount and in the val- 
ley of God's providence, it is true, standing in 
the storm or sunshine, just as her Heavenly 
Father chose ; but, in the centre of her believ- 
ing spirit, mountains and valleys were made 
equal in God. Of course, her inward life was 



48 The Inner Life. 

very simple, and any person who will live by 
naked faith will always rind it so. 

As a result of strong faith, her inner life was 
characterized in a remarkable degree bv what 
may be termed rest or quietude ; which is only 
another form of expression for true interior 
peace. It was not, however, the quietude of a 
lazy inaction, but the quietude of an inward 
acquiescence : not a quietude which feels noth- 
ing and does nothing, but that higher and 
divine quietude which exists bv feeling- and 
acting in the time and degree of God's appoint- 
ment and God's will. It was a principle in her 
conduct, as already intimated, to give herself 
to God in the discharge of duty, and to leave 
all results without solicitude in His hands. 
And the consequence, as would naturally be ex- 
pected, was the same in her case as the Apostle 
Paul represents it to have been in his, — that 
she could be troubled without being distressed ; 
perplexed without being in despair ; persecuted 
and cast down without either being destroved 
or forsaken. In the language of Feneion, 



The Inner Life. 



49 



whose religious experience seems to have been 
in a high degree similar, she K adored all the 
purposes of God, without knowing them." See- 
ing God in all things, and all things in God, 
she loved the afflictions which had God in 
them, and fled from all earthly good where God 
was not, — a state of feeling and action wdiich 
would not fail to bring inward peace. 

T. C. Upham. 



r I ^HE child leans on its parent's breast, 
Leaves there its cares, and is at rest; 
The bird sits singing by his nest, 

And tells aloud 
His trust in God, and so is blest 

5 Neath every cloud. 

The heart that trusts for ever sino-s. 
And feels as light as it had wings ; 
A well of peace within it springs : 

Come good or ill, — 
Whate'er to-day, to-morrow, brings, — 

It is His will. 

Isaac Williams* 

4 



50 



The Lin 67' Life. 



JOY is for all men. It does not depend on 
circumstance or condition : if it did, it 
could only be for the few. It is not the fruit 
of good luck or of fortune, or even of outward 
success, which all men cannot have. It is of 
the soul or the soul's character : it is the wealth 
of the soul's own being, when it is filled with 
the spirit of Jesus, which is the spirit of eternal 
love. If you want, therefore, to know who of 
mankind can have the gift of joy, you have 
only to ask who of them have souls : for every 
soul is made to be a well-spring of eternal 
blessedness ; and will be, if only it permits the 
waters of the eternal love to rise within. It 
can have right thoughts and true, and be set in 
everlasting harmony with itself. It can love : 
and so, without going about to find what shall 
bless it, it has all the material of blessing in 
itself; resources in its own immortal nature, as 
a creature dwelling in the light of God, which 
cannot fail or be exhausted. All men are for 
joy, and joy for all. 



The Inner Life. 



5* 



It is equally evident, that the reason why 
they do not have it, is that they do not seek it 
where it is, — in the receiving of Christ and 
the spirit of His life. They go after it in 
things without, not in character within ; they 
have ail faith in fortune, none in character. So 
they build palaces and accumulate splendors 
about them, and keep a desert within. And 
then, since the desert within cannot be made to 
rejoice in the gewgaws and vanities without, 
thev sis;h ; they are very melancholy ; the world 
is a hard world; vanity of vanities, all is 
vanity. Let them cease this whimpering about 
the vanities, and come to Christ; let them re- 
ceive His joy, and there is an end to the hun- 
ger. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of 
me ; and ye shall find rest to your souls. There 
is nothing hard in what I require. When I 
call you to renounce all and take up your cross 
and follow me, I only seek to withdraw you 
from the chase after happiness, that I may fill 
you with joy. My yoke is easy, therefore, and 
my burden is light. Ah, how many have found 



52 



The Inner Life. 



it to be exactly so ! What surprise have they 
felt in the dawning of this Christian joy ! 
They seemed about to lose every thing, and 
found themselves, instead, possessing all things. 

H. Bushxeix. 



RANT us. dear Lord, from evil ways 
True absolution and release ; 
And bless us, more than in past days, 

W ith purity and inward peace. 
Through life's long day and death's dark r ght, 
O gentle Jesus ! be our light. 

Do more than pardon, — give us joy, 

Sweet fear, and sober liberty ; 
And simple hearts, without alloy, 

That only long to be like Thee. 
Through life's long day and death's dark night, 
O gentle Jesus I be our light. 

i ABER, 



The Inner Life, 



S3 



JgUT those others, — that is to say, those 
noble men who do truly arise and receive 
divine light, — these allow God to prepare their 
souls for Himself, and renounce themselves in 
all things, without any reserve, either as regards 
their words or their daily habits, or what they 
do or refrain from, or any thing else, whether 
things go smoothly or crossly with them. Both 
in framing their purposes and in meeting what 
arises, they refer all to God in humble fear, 
and give themselves wholly up to Him, — in 
utter poorness of spirit, in willing self-surren- 
der, acquiescing in the divine will. They are 
content to say, in all matters, "As God will ; " 
in quiet or disquiet : for their sole delight is the 
holy and excellent will of God. To these we 
may apply what Christ said unto His disciples 
When they bade Him to go up unto the feast : 
ef Go ye up : your time is alway ready ; but my 
time is not yet come." These men's time is 
alway ready for them to endure and submit ; 
all time is fitting for them : but God's time is 



54 



l '/i c I /iiit/' Li) e. 



not alwav readv when he deigns or sees ht to 
rth His light. This they 
a His divine will, and are 
ig as He pleases, 
ishing mark of this better 
tney suiter Gog to order 
and do not hinder Him. 
:sea aoove tne snociis 01 
Lcmpiauon. nor even the liabiiirv to fail for a 
moment ^for no one is enrirelv delivered from 
this clanger ) ; but afterwards, as soon as the 
first onset of passion is over, and their fault is 
held up before them, whether it be pride, or 
seli-indulgence. or auger, or hatred, or what- 
ever is tneir special temotation. thev come to 
God in self-abasement, and submit themselves 
to Him. and bear without murmuring what He 
sees fit to appoint unto them. And such do in 
truth arise : for they rise above themselves 
in ail things, and tney do become in truth a 
Jerusalem or stronghold of peace : for they 
have quiet in disquietude, and prosperity- in 
adversity, and rejoice in the will of God amidst 



work or to send fo: 

s m .> lea \ e . 

willing to wait as loi 
Now. the disungu: 
sort of men is. that 
their soul's affairs, ; 
\ et tnev are not ra 



The Inner Life. 



55 



all circumstances. Therefore no power in this 
world can take away their peace : nor could all 
the devils in hell, nor all the men on earth, 
banded together. All their affections centre 
in God, and they are enlightened by Him of 
a truth : for He shines into their souls with a 
strong and clear light that reveals all things 
unto them ; and He shineth as truly, nay, far 
more brightly, in the blackest darkness than in 
the seeming light. Ah ! these are sweet and 
lovely children of God, raised above nature by 
their likeness to Him ; and such neither under- 
take nor bring to pass any of their works 
without God. Nay, if we may dare to use 
such language, they are, so to speak, nothing ; 
but God is in them: as St. Paul says, "I 
live ; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me." Ah ! 
these are highly favored men : they bear the 
world upon their shoulders, and are the noble 
pillars of society. To make one of their num- 
ber, what a blessed and glorious thing were 
that! 

Tauler, 



The Inner Life. 



/^VN Thee, O my God ! I rest, 

Letting life float calmly on ; 
For I know the last is best, 

When the crown of joy is won. 
In Thy might all things I bear, 

In Thy love find bitters sweet ; 
And, with all my grief and care, 

Sit in patience at Thy feet. 

Let Thy mercy's wings be spread 

O'er me ; keep me close to Thee : 
In the peace Thy love doth shed, 

Let me dwell eternally. 
Be my All ; in all I do, 

Let me only seek Thy w T ill : 
Where the heart to Thee is true, 

All is peaceful, calm, and still. 

A. H. Francks* 



JF quiet and peace could be had only by with- 
drawing from the duties and occupations 
of active life, then quiet and peace for most of 
us could never be. Not many of us could 



57 



escape from manifold work and care in this 
life. Where most of us are placed in this world, 
we are likely to remain to the end : it is not in 
our power to fly to some far and still retreat, 
in whose quiet we might escape the evils and 
troubles here; and the corner will never be 
found in this world, where care and evil shall 
be unknown by human beings. But the peace 
which the Saviour gives His own, is peace of 
heart and mind amid daily duties. It is that 
"central peace" which may "subsist at the 
heart of endless agitation." When you look at 
the believer's busy life, you may see no trace 
of his inward peace of soul. But you know, 
that the ocean, under the hurricane, is lashed 
into those huge waves and that wild foam only 
upon the surface. Not very far down, the 
waters are still as an autumn noon : there is 
not a ripple or breath or motion. And so, if 
we had the faith we ought, though there might 
be ruffles upon the surface of our lot, we should 
have the inward peace of perfect faith in God. 
Amid the dreary noises of this world, amid its 



53 



The Inner Life. 



cares and tears, amid its hot contentions, am- 
bitions, and disappointments, we should have 
an inner calm like the serene ocean depths, to 
which the influence of the wild winds and 
waves above can never come. 

Oh that we could lay it to heart, that the 
day will never come in which there will not be 
something to vex and weary ! The day will 
never come in which every thing will go as we 
would wish ; the day will never come in this 
world that will make the soul happy and com- 
plete, — and all this just because God does not 
intend that such a day should ever come ; all 
this because the world was never meant for our 
rest, and, whenever it is beginning to grow 
too like our rest, God will send us something 
to remind us that it is not; all this because 
these immortal souls within us are not to be 
put off with any worldly aim or worldly enjoy- 
ment, but will ever reach, and blindly long 
after, something as immortal as themselves. It 
was not a piece of mystical piety, but a plain, 
certain, philosophic truth, that sentence of the 



The Inner Life. 



59 



ancient African bishop, written more than a 
thousand years since : K Thou madest us for 
Thyself," — thus he addressed his Maker, — 
" and our souls are restless till they find rest in 
Thee." 

The only real rest that the soul of man can 
ever know, is that which is given by Him who 
said, "Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are 
heavy laden, and I will give you rest." And 
not even that rest, given by the Redeemer to 
His own, is perfect in this present life : the 
best believer's heart will be many a time dis- 
quieted and perplexed, so long as he abides 
here. "There remaineth a rest for the people 
of God." It re7naineth : it is waiting for them, 
far away. This is not our rest : our rest is be- 
yond the grave. We are but "strangers and 
pilgrims upon earth ; " and heaven is our home. 
And it is only our Saviour's presence that can 
make us happy. God has made us so, that we 
never shall be right till we are K for ever with 
the Lord." It is not the quiet country that will 
give all the rest he needs, to the jaded man of 



6o 



The Inner Life, 



business in the great citv. It is not the longed- 

O ml O 

for breathing space, the longed-for leisure, 
that is all which is needed by the over-driven 
brain. It is not the home fireside and the 
cheerful domestic circle that is all the lonely 
wanderer needs to give him rest. I: is not 
money that will really satisfy the soul of the 
man who works hardest for it. It is not high 
station and eminent fame that will truly enable 
even the most ambitious man to sit down and 
feel himself perfectly content at last. There 
will alwavs be something wanting. — alwavs 
some vague idea, like the Psalmists, that, if 
he had but wings, he would fly far, far away. 
There are rest and peace to be found in God, 
— in God as we see Him in the merciful face 
of Christ; and no other where. 

Boyd. 



6i 



WITH a heart full of anxious request, 
Which my Father in heaven bestowed, 
I wandered alone and distressed, 

In search of a quiet abode. 
Astray and distracted, I cried, 

Lord, where w-ouldst Thou have me to be? 
And the voice of the Lamb that had died 
Said, Come, my belo 1 d, to Me. 

I went,- — for He mightily wins 

Weary souls to His peaceful retreat, — 
And He gave me iorgiveness of sins, 

And songs that I love to repeat. 
And oft, as my enemies came 

My views of His glory to dim, 
He taught me to trust in His name, 

And to triumph by leaning on Him. 

Made pure by the blood that He shed, 

My heart in His presence was free : 
I w r as hungry and thirsty, — He fed ; 

I was sick, and He comforted me. 
He gave me the blessing complete, — 

The hope that is with me to-day ; 
And a quiet abode at His feet, 

That shall not be taken away. 

A. L, Waring. 



TRIALS BY THE WAY. 



« In the worlp ye shall have tribulation : but be of good cheer , 
1 have overcome the worj-d. '— Jolu xvi. 33- 




TRIALS BY THE WAY. 



^J^HE truth is, that we never feel Christ to 
be a reality, until we feel Him to be a 
necessity. Therefore God makes us feel that 
necessity. He tries us here, and He tries us 
there. He chastises on this side, and He chas- 
tises on that side. He probes us by the disclo- 
sure of one sin. and another, and a third, which 
have lain rankling in our deceived hearts. He 
removes, one after another, the objects in which 
we have been seeking the repose of idolatrous 
affection. He afflicts us in ways which we 
have not anticipated. He sends upon us the 
chastisements which He knows we shall feel 

5 



66 



Trials by the Way. 



most sensitively. He pursues us when we 
would fain flee from His hand ; and, if need 
be, He shakes to pieces the whole framework 
of our plans of life, by which we have been 
struggling to build together the service of God 
and the service of Self; till, at last, He makes 
us feel that Christ is all that is left to us. 

When we discover that, and go to Christ, 
conscious of our beggary in respect of every 
thing else, — ■ wretched, and miserable, and 
poor, and blind, and naked, — we go, not ex- 
pecting much, perhaps not asking much. There 
may be hours of prostration when we ask only 
for rest; we pray for the cessation of suffering ; 
we seek repose from conflict with ourselves, 
and with God's providence. But God gives us 
more. He is more generous than we have 
dared to believe. He gives us joy; He gives 
us liberty ; He gives us victory ; He gives us a 
sense of self-conquest, and of union with Him- 
self in an eternal friendship. On the basis of 
that single experience of Christ as a reality, 
Decanse a necessity, there rises an experience 



Trials by the Way. 



6 7 



of blessedness in communion with God, which 
prayer expresses like a Revelation. Such de- 
votion is a jubilant Psalm. 

Austin Phelps. 




'APPY are they that learn in Thee, 
■ Though patient suffering teach, 



The secret of enduring strength, 
And praise too deep for speech,— 

Peace that no pressure from without, 
No strife within, can reach. 

My heart is fixed, O God, my strength i 

My heart is strong to bear ; 
I will be joyful in Thy love, 

And peaceful in Thy care. 
Deal with me, for my Saviour's sake, 

According to His prayer. 

No suffering while it lasts is joy, 

How blest soe'er it be ; 
Yet may the chastened child be glad 

His Father's face to see. 
And, oh ! it is not hard to bear 

What must be borne in Thee. 



Trials by the Way. 



It is not hard to bear by faith 

In Thy own bosom laid, 
The trial of a soul redeemed. 

For Thy rejoicing made. 
Well may the heart in patience rest, 

That none can make afraid. 

Safe in Thy sanctifying grace, 

Almighty to restore ; 
Borne onward, sin and death behind, 

And love and life before, — 
Oh let my soul abound in hope, 

And praise Thee more and more ! 

Deep unto deep may call ; but I, 

With peaceful heart, will say, 
Thy loving kindness hath a charge 

No waves can take away : 
And let the storm, that speeds me home, 

Deal with me as it may* 

A. L. Waring 



Trials by the Way. 



69 



"D EGARD suffering, even in its slighter 
forms, as a vocation, having its special 
duties, and offering its special grace. Say 
secretly of it, * Here for the present lies thy 
allotted task, O my soul ! Consider how much 
may be made of this period, how largely it 
may be improved to God's service and thy 
salvation. It is the post to which thou art 
appointed : seek to occupy it faithfully and 
bravely ; and more good shall accrue to thee 
from it, than from what thou didst propose to 
thyself as the line of service of thine own 
choosing." 

While no option is left us as to bearing the 
cross, we may either take it uj), or strive to 
push it off. We may, on the one hand, harbor 
the thought, that we are hardly dealt with : or, 
on the other, we may, by enforcing upon our- 
selves such considerations as that God is a 
tender Father, and never chastens but for our 
profit ; that suffering is a medicine, remedial, 
though bitter ; that we have deserved infinitely 



7o 



Trials by the Way. 



more than is ever laid upon us ; and that there 
is no real satisfaction for man except in con- 
formity to the Divine Will, — bring round the 
mind to say sincerely (the highest point of 
perfection this, which human character can 
reach) : — 

" O Lord, my God ! do Thou Thy holy will; 
I will lie still : 
I will not stir, lest I forsake Thine arm, 

And break the charm 
Which lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast, 
In perfect rest." 

Are we striving to bring our minds to this 
point, when and as God calls us to suffer? Are 
we daily practising resignation, as opportunity 
offers? By a patient and loving endurance of 
annoyances, are we preparing ourselves grad- 
ually for the discipline of trials ? Christ comes 
to us morning by morning, to present to us, 
for the day then opening, divers little crosses, 
thwartings of our own will, interferences with 
our plans, disappointments of our little pleas- 
ures. Do we kiss them, and take them up? or 
do we toss them from us scornfully, because 



Trials by the Way. 



7i 



they are so little, and wait for some great afflic- 
tion to approve our patience and our resignation 
to His Will? Ah, how might we accommodate, 
to the small matters of religion generally, those 
words of the Lord respecting the children, 
"Take heed that ye despise not one of these 
little ones " ! Despise not little sins : they have 
ruined many a soul. Despise not little duties : 
they have been to many a saved man an excel- 
lent discipline of humility. Despise not little 
temptations : rightly met, they have often nerved 
the character for some fiery trial. And despise 
not little crosses ; for, when taken up, and lov- 
ingly accepted at the Lord's hand, they have 
made men meet for a great crown, — even 
the crown of righteousness and life, which the 
Lord hath promised to them that love Him. 

GOULBURN. 



72 



Trials by the Way. 



T SAY to thee, do thou repeat 

To the first man thou mayest meet, 
In lane, highway, or open street, — 

That he and we, and all men, move 

Under a canopy of love, 

As broad as the blue sky above ; 

That doubt and trouble, fear and pain 
And anguish, all are shadows vain ; 
That death itself shall not remain ; 

That weary deserts we may tread, 
A dreary labyrinth may thread, 
Through dark ways underground be led, 

Yet, if we will one Guide obey, 
The dreariest path, the darkest way, 
Shall issue out in heavenly day ; 

And we, on diverse shores now cast, 
Shall meet, our perilous voyage past, 
All in our Father's house at last. 

And, ere thou leave him, say thou this, 
Yet one word more : They only miss 
The winning of that final bliss, 



73 



Who will not count it true, that Love — 
Blessing, not cursing — rules above, 
And that in it we live and move. 

And one thing further make him know, 
That to believe these things are so, 
This firm faith never to forego, — 

Despite of all which seems at strife 
With blessing, all with curses rife, — 
That this is blessing, this is life. 

R. C. Trench. 



A GREAT grief has smitten you down. 
Will you listen to the Tempter, who is 
trying to make you think hard thoughts of 
God ? Will you believe, that because the 
Lord hateth you he chasteneth you? Will you 
crouch and writhe from under the rod? Will 
you glide down with your hand in the enemy's, 
from slope to slope, from depth to depth, from 
darkness to darkness, until you are fit to be- 
come a temfter like him, and to say to others, 
as he says to you, K God hath forgotten, — He 



74 



Trials by the Way. 



regardeth not ! What are your griefs to Him? 
Could He not have healed them all with a 
word? He sits on high, and rules the stars; 
not you and your poor, little, petty lives." 

Or will you bow down beneath the rod, and 
look u$ beneath it ; take the gracious Hand of 
the Comforter stretched out to you, and let 
Him lift you up when His time comes; and 
bruised, and humbled, and broken as you are, 
lead you gently on and up to where He can 
show you what danger he drove you from in 
smiting you? until he makes you a comforter, 
too ; and from your poor, trembling lips shall 
drop, on the hearts of other mourners, such 
words as He speaks to you: "Because the 
Lord loveth, He chasteneth you." He cares 
for every pang you suffer. But He cares in- 
finitely more to save you from sin. For that 
He bowed beneath, not the scourge only, but 
the cross. For that, dearly as He loves you, 
He spares neither rod nor sword nor fire. And 
that, if you will yield yourselves up to His will 
and His way with all your hearts, He will do. 

Mrs. Charles. 



Trials by the Way, 



75 



TpEACE ; be still : 

In this night of sorrow bow ; 
O my heart ! contend not thou ; 
What befalls thee is God's will : 
Peace ; be still. 

Peace ; be still : 
All thy murmuring words are vain, 
God will make the riddle plain ; 
Wait His word, and bear His will : 

Peace ; be still. 

Hold thee still : 
Though the Father scourge thee sore, 
Cling thou to Him all the more ; 
Let Him mercy's work fulfil : 

Hold thee still. 

Hold thee still : 
Though the good Physician's knife 
Seem to touch thy very life, 
Death alone he means to kill : 

Hold thee still. 

Lord, my God, 
Give me grace that I may be 



7 6 



Trials by the Way. 



Thy true child, and silently 
Own thy sceptre and thy rod, 
Lord, my God ! 

Shepherd mine, 
From thy fulness give me still 
Faith to do and bear thy will, 
Till the morning light shall shine, 

Shepherd mine ! 

From the German, 



HT^HB reason why we have so many crosses, 
trials, wrongs, and pains, is here made 
evident. We have not one too many for the 
successful culture of our faith. The great 
thiner, and that which it is most of all difficult 
to produce in us, is a participation of Christ's' 
forgiving gentleness and patience. This, if 
we can learn it, is the most difficult and the 
most distinctively Christian of all attainments. 
Therefore w r e need a continual discipline of 
occasions, — poverty, sickness, bereavements, 
losses, treacheries, misrepresentations, oppres- 



Trials by the Way. 



77 



sions, persecutions: we can hardly have too 
many for our own good, if only we receive 
them as our Saviour did His cross. It is just 
by these refining fires of trial and suffering, thai 
we are to be most advanced in that to which we 
aspire. The first thing that our Saviour set 
Himself to, when He began His ministry, was 
the inculcation of those traits that belong to the 
passive or patient side ; for these, He well un- 
derstood, .were most remote from us, highest 
above us, and, most of all, cross to the impa- 
tient, stormy spirit of sin within us. 

How many are there who, by reason of pov- 
erty, obscurity, infirmity of mind or body, can 
never hope to do much by action, and who 
often sigh at the contemplation of their want 
of power to effect any thing ! But it is given 
to them, as to all, to suffer : let them only suffer 
well, and they will give a testimony for God, 
which all who know them will deeply feel and 
profoundly respect. It is not necessary for all 
men to be great in Action. The greatest and 
sublimest power is often simple, patience ; and 



73 



Trials by the Way. 



for just that reason we need sometimes to see 
its greatness alone, that we may embrace the 
solitary, single idea of such greatness, and 
bring it into our hearts, unconfused with all 
other kinds of power. Whoever gives to the 
Church of God such a contribution, — the in- 
valid, the cripple, the neglected and forlorn 
woman, — every such person yields a testimony 
for the cross, that is second in value to no 
other. 

Let this be remembered, and let it be your 
joy in every trial and grief and pain and wrong 
you suffer, that to suffer well is to be a true 
advocate, and apostle, and pillar of the faith. 

" They also serve, who only stand and wait." 

And here, let me add, is pre-eminently the 
office and power of woman. Her power is to 
be the power most especially of gentleness and 
patient endurance. An office so divine, let her 
joyfully accept and faithfully bear, — adding 
sweetness to life in all its exasperating and 
bitter experiences, causing poverty to smile, 



Trials by the Way. 



79 



cheering the hard lot of adversity, teaching 
pain the way of peace, abating hostilities and 
disarming injuries, by the patience of her love. 
All the manifold conditions of human suffering 
and sorrow are many occasions given to woman, 
to prove the sublimity of true submission, and 
reveal the celestial power of passive goodness. 

H. BUSHNELL. 



A GENTLE Angel walketh throughout a world 
of woe, 

With messages of mercy to mourning hearts below ; 
His peaceful smile invites them to love and to con- 
fide : 

Oh, follow in His footsteps, keep closely by His 
side ! 

So gently will He lead thee through all the cloudy 
day, 

And whisper of glad tidings to cheer the pilgrim 
way; 

His courage never failing, when thine is almost 
gone, 

He takes thy heavy burden, and helps to bear it on. 



8o 



Trials by the Way. 



To soft and tearful sadness He changes dumb de- 
spair, 

And soothes to deep submission the storm of grief 
and care ; 

Where midnight shades are brooding, He pours the 

light of noon, 
And every grievous wound He heals, most surely, 

if not soon. 

He will not blame thy sorrows, while He brings the 
healing balm ; 

He does not chide thy longings, while he soothes 
them into calm ; 

And, when thy heart is murmuring, and wildly ask- 
ing, Why? 

He, smiling, beckons forward, points upward to the 
sky. 

He will not always answer thy questions and thy 
fear : 

His watchword is, " Be patient : thy journey's end 
is near." 

And ever, through the toilsome way, He tells of 

joys to come, 
And points the pilgrim to his rest, the wanderer to 

his home. 

Spitta. 



Trials by the Way. 



81 



how happy is that state, when we do not 
need to urge ourselves to obey the law of 
God ; when, as Paul says, the Spirit of God 
incites the children of God ; when it is no more 
commanded from without, Do this, do that, for- 
sake this, forsake that; when to do the will of 
the Deity is the food of our souls ! He who has 
been made by the Divine Spirit thus inwardly 
free from all law, how he stands up, untram- 
melled amid the restraints imposed by all the re- 
lations of the world, yea, even by its calamities ! 
He is free when in chains, free in the prison, 
free under the pressure of gnawing disease. It 
is the will of God which has selected for me the 
chain, the prison, the disease; and as my will 
is not discordant with the Divine, so, under all 
these restrictions, I am free. Imagine what 
must be my consciousness of king-like eleva- 
tion, when all the events, w r hich occur to me as 
by necessity from without, are yet freely chosen 
and determined by myself. That was the sen- 
timent of a king, with which the first Christians 

6 



82 



Trials by the Way. 



went through the world, and with which Paul 
cried out, K All things are yours." Yea, truly, 
where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is free- 
dom ; but where it is not, there discipline is 
imperiously needed. 



HOSE whom Christ sanctifies are sepa- 



rated from two things, — 'from the world's 
evil, and from the world's spirit. 

From the world's evil. ? ' I pray not that 
Thou shouldest take them out of the world, but 
that Thou shouldest keep them from the evil." 
Not from physical evil, not from pain : Christ 
does not exempt His own from such kinds of 
evil. Nay, we hesitate to call pain and sorrow 
evils, when we remember what bright charac- 
ters they have made, and when we recollect that 
almost all who came to Christ came impelled 
by suffering of some kind or other. For exam- 
ple, the Syrophenician woman had been driven 
to "fall at His feet and worship Him," by the 



Tholuck. 




Trials by the Way. 83 



anguish of the tormented daughter whom she 
had watched. It was a widow that cast into 
the treasury all her living, and that widow 
poor. 

Possibly, Want and Woe will be seen here- 
after, when this world of appearance shall have 
passed away, to have been, not evils, but God's 
blessed angels, and ministers of His most 
parental love. 

But the evil from which Christ's sanctifica- 
tion separates the soul, is that worst of evils,— 
properly speaking the only evil, — sin : revolt 
from God, disloyalty to conscience, tyranny of 
the passions, strife of our self-will in conflict 
with the loving will of God. This is our foe, 
— our only foe that we have a right to hate 
with perfect hatred, meet it where we will, and 
under whatever form, in church or state, in 
false social maxims, or in our own hearts. 

F. W. Robertson. 



8 4 



Trials by the Way. 



1" sorrow builds the shining ladder up, 



Whose golden rounds are our calamities, 
Whereon our firm feet planting, nearer God 
The spirit climbs, and hath its eyes unsealed. 
True is it that Death's face seems stern and cold, 
When he is sent to summon those we love ; 
But all God's angels come to us disguised : 
Sorrow and sickness, poverty and death, 
One after other, lift their frowning masks, 
And we behold the Seraph's face beneath, 
All radiant with the glory and the calm 
Of having looked upon the front of God. 



A S the harp-strings only render 

All their treasures of sweet sound, 
All their music, glad or tender, 
Firmly struck and tightly bound ; 

So the hearts of Christians owe 
Each its deepest, sweetest strain, 
To the pressure firm of woe, 
And the tension tight of pain. 




J. R. LoWELLr 



Trials by the Way. 



85 



Spices crushed, their pungence yield ; 
Trodden scents their sweets respire ; 
Would you have its strength revealed? — 
Cast the incense in the fire. 

Thus the crushed and broken frame 
Oft doth sweetest graces yield : 
From the martyr's keenest flame 
Heavenly incense is distilled. 

Adam of St. Victor. 



^JO not trouble yourself by thinking how 
much you are afflicted, but consider how 
much you make of it ; for reflex acts upon the 
suffering itself can lead to nothing but to pride 
or to impatience, to temptation or apostasy. He 
that measures the grains and scruples of his 
persecution will soon sit down, and call for 
ease or for a reward ; will think the time long 
or his burden great ; will be apt to complain of 
his condition, or set a greater value upon his 
person. Look not back upon him that strikes 
thee, but upward to God that supports thee, 



86 



Trials by the Way. 



and forward to the crown that is set before 
thee ; and then consider, if the loss of thy 
estate hath taught thee to despise the world, 
whether thy poor fortune hath made thee poor 
in spirit, and if thy uneasy prison sets thy soul 
at liberty, and knocks off the fetters of a worse 
captivity. 

Noah was safe when the flood came : he was 
put into a strange condition, shut up in a prison 
of wood, living upon faith, having never had 
the experience of being safe in floods. And so 
have I often seen young and unskilful persons 
sitting in a little boat, when every little wave 
sporting about the sides of the vessel, and 
every motion and dancing of the barge, seemed 
a danger, and made them cling fast upon their 
fellows; and yet, all the while, they were as 
safe as if they sat under a tree, while a gentle 
wind shook the leaves into a refreshment and a 
cooling shade : and the unskilful, inexperienced 
Christian shrieks out, whenever his vessel 
shakes, thinking it always a danger, that the 
watery pavement is not stable and resident like 



87 



a rock : and yet all his danger is in himself, 
none at all from without. For he is indeed 
moving upon the waters, but fastened to a rock : 
faith is his foundation, and hope is his anchor, 
and death is his harbor, and Christ is his pilot, 
and heaven is his country ; and all the evils of 
poverty or affronts, of tribunals and evil judges, 
of fears and sadder apprehensions, are but like 
the loud wind blowing from the right point, — 
they make a noise, and drive faster to the har- 
bor ; and — if we do not leave the ship, and 
leap into the sea : quit the interests of religion, 
and run to the securities of the world ; cut our 
cables, and dissolve our hopes : grow impatient, 
and hug a wave, and die in its embraces — we 
are as safe at sea, — safer in the storm which 
God sends us, than in a calm, when we are 
befriended with the world. 

Jeremy Taylor. 



88 



Trials by the Way. 



WHAT pleases God, O pious soul ! 
Accept with joy : though thunders roll 
And tempests lower on every side, 
Thou knowest nought can thee betide 
But pleases God. 

The best will is our Father's will, 
And we may rest there, calm and still : 
Oh, make it hour by hour thine own, 
And wish for nought but that alone 
Which pleases God ! 

And must thou suffer here and there, 
Cling but the firmer to His care ; 
For all things are beneath His sway, 
And must in very truth obey 
What pleases God. 

True faith will grasp His mercy fast, 
And hope bring patience at the last : 
Then both within thy heart enshrine ; 
So shall the heritage be thine 
That pleases God. 




Paul Gerhardt 



Trials by the Way. 89 



y^UXT JEAXXIE seemed feebler to me 
than when I saw her last: but her dear 
old face lighted up as she talked to us. 

And, as we were going away, she rose, and 
held our hands in each of hers, and said, in a 
tender, trembling voice,— 

''The world is no easy place for bairns like 
you to find their way through ; and there is 
no safe road through it that I know, from first 
to last, but just the footprints of the Lord him- 
self. But you must not look to see even these, 
in any long track before you. You'll mostly 
find nothing plain but the next step. But 
your hearts need not sink for that. A Sa- 
viour's hand to guide you is better than a map. 
// upholds while it guides. I have found that 
the times when I was longing for the map 
were just those when I was losing hold of the 
hand; and then, more than once, the thorns 
piercing my feet drove me back to the foot- 
prints and the hand I should never have for- 
saken. But you need not be afraid even of 



9 o 



Trials by the Way. 



the thorns/' she added, her whole face lighting 
up with confidence and joy : K the feet in 
whose prints we tread were pierced for us 
with worse than thorns. And the hand that 
guides and upholds is a hand well able to bind 
up any wounds. It has bound up what none 
else could.- — the broken heart." 

Then, as once or twice before, she seemed 
to forget the thought of our presence, in the 
presence of God. Her whole spirit seemed to 
rise in prayer. Mrs , Charles. 




He wounds us sore with cruel thorns, where we 

have stooped for flowers ; 
But, oh ! 'tis from the oft-pierced heart those 

precious drops distil, 
That many a life, else all unblest. with healin^ 

balm shall fill. 
Then give, oh give the flower to those who pray it 

so may be ! 

But I would choose to have the thorns with Thee, 
dear Lord, with Thee. 



Trials by the Way. 91 



Man judgeth man in ignorance, he seeth but in 
part; 

Our trust is in our Maker, God, who searcheth 
every heart : 

And every wrong, and every woe, when put be- 
neath our feet, 

As stepping-stones may help us on to His high 
mercy-seat. 

Then teach us still to smile, O Lord ! though sharp 

the stones may be, 
Remembering that they bring us near to Thee, 

dear Lord, to Thee. 



"Y^/^ ^ nc * ** difficult to believe in that al- 
mighty goodness that inflicts trials on 
those whom it loves. Why, we say, should it 
please God to make us suffer? Why should He 
not make us good, without making us miser- 
able? Doubtless He could, for He is all-power- 
ful : the hearts of men are in His hands, and 
He can turn them as He will. But He, who 
could save us from sorrow, has not chosen to 



Q2 



Trials by the Way, 



do it : just as he has wished that men should 
grow slowly from infancy to manhood, instead 
of creating them at once in maturity. We have 
only to be silent, and adore His profound wis- 
dom, without comprehending it. Thus we see 
clearly that we cannot be virtuous but in propor- 
tion as we become humble, disinterested, trust- 
ing every thing to God, without any unquiet 
concern about ourselves. We have need of all 
our crosses. When we suffer much, it is be- 
cause we have strong ties that it is necessary 
to loosen. We resist, and we thus retard the 
divine operation : we repulse the heavenly 
hand, and it must come again : it would be 
wiser to yield ourselves at once to God. 

Our Father in heaven orders a series of 
events that gradually detach us from the 
earth, and finally from self. This operation is 
painful : but it is the disease of our soul that 
renders it necessary, and that causes the pain 
we feel. Is it cruelty in the surgeon to cut to 
the quick? Xo : on the contrary, it is affection, 
it is skill : he would so treat his only son. 



Trials by the Way. 93 

And thus it is with God : His parental heart 
does not wish to grieve us ; He must wound us 
to the very heart, that he may cure its malady. 
He must take from us what is most dear, lest 
we love it too much, — lest we love it to the 
prejudice of our love for Him. We weep, we 
despair, we groan in our spirits, and we murmur 
against God : but He leaves us to our sorrow, 
and we are saved ; our present grief saves us 
from an eternal sorrow. He has placed the 
friends whom He has taken from us in safety, 
to restore them to us in eternity. He has de- 
prived us of them, that He may teach us to 
love them with a pure love, — a love that we 
may enjoy in His presence for ever. He con- 
fers a greater blessing than we are capable of 
desiring. 

Fenelon. 



CHE spoke with passion after pause, "And 

were it wisely done, 
If we, who cannot gaze above, should walk the 
earth alone? — 



94 



Trials by the Way, 



If we, whose virtue is so weak, should have a will 

so strong, 

And stand blind on the rocks, to choose the right 

path from the wrong? 
To choose, perhaps, a love-lit hearth, instead of love 

and Heaven, — 
A single rose for a rose-tree, which beareth seven 

times seven? 

A rose that droppeth from the hand, that fadeth in 
the breast, 

Until, in grieving for the worst, we learn what is 
the best?" 

Then, breaking into tears, " Dear God," she cried, 

" and must we see 
All blissful things depart from us, or ere we go to 

Thee? 

We cannot guess Thee in the wood, or hear Thee 
in the wind ; 

Our cedars must fall round us, ere we see the light 

behind ; 

Ay, sooth, we feel too strong in weal to need Thee 

on that road ; 
But, woe being come, the soul is dumb that crieth 

not on God." 

Mrs. E. B. Browning. 



Trials by the Way. 



rj^HE thorn in the flesh was sent to keep 
Paul humble. And we may be quite sure 
it did what it was sent to do. It would be effect- 
ual. The apostle had many things to puff him 
up ; but this one thing would keep him down. 
Perhaps, in the case of each of us, most of 
those who know us would find it difficult to see 
any reason why we should be exalted above 
measure. We have not much perhaps to be 
vain about ; yet who does not know how ready 
all human beings are to think of themselves 
far more highly than they ought to think, and 
to think of themselves as very different from 
what they appear to others? St. Paul was 
thinking especially about spiritual pride, and 
about temptation to be vain of his spiritual 
gifts and attainments; a$d probably there is 
no form of self-conceit that steals in more 
subtly than that, or needs to be more rigorously 
kept down. A man may feel a deep spiritual 
pride because he is (as he fancies) so free 
from spiritual pride. And indeed, in all 



Trials by the Way. 



respects, — as regards our talents, our influ- 
ence, our reputation, our general position, — 
there is, in the heart of almost all, a tendency, 
needing to be constantly held in check, to 
undue self-estimation. And this tendency is 
not one that will do to have corrected just once 
for all. It is not like a tree that you cut down 
once for all and are done with ; it is rather like 
the grass of a lawn, which } T ou may mow 
down as closely as you can, and in a little it 
will grow up again just as before. Now r , Paul's 
self-conceit w r as mown down regularly every 
day. If it was always growing, the influence 
was always at work to keep it down. If, at 
any time, the thought began to get the upper 
hand, how T great, and useful, and highly fav- 
ored a man he was, — there was the sharp 
thorn piercing in, sorer and deeper; and that 
set him right. And it is so with us, my friend. 
As surely as you get to grow out of that 
humility which best becomes us ; as surely as 
you begin to cherish vain thoughts and high 
thoughts, — so surely, if God loves you, will 



Trials by the Way. 



91 



something come to take you down ; so surely 
will some thorn in the flesh bring you back to 
your better and lowlier self; some fresh proof 
be given you, how weak you were where you 
fancied yourself strong ; how little esteemed, 
where you thought it far otherwise ; how fee- 
ble, worldly, and imperfect a believer you are 
yet; how little grown up to that stature in 
grace to which you fancied you had grown. 
And, painful as these lessons may be, we need 
them all. And, if they be sanctified by the 
Holy Spirit, they will effectually do their 
work. We shall not think much of ourselves 
in the day of crushing sorrow. There will be 
a constant lesson of humility in remembrance 
of some act of sin in 4 "? which we fell, or in 
even the remembrance of some weakness and 
folly. You look back, my readers, over your 
past life, and you remember many things such 
as we take to be symbolized by that humbling 
thorn of St. Paul. You have had many takings 
down. You have had many things tending to 
make you lowly ; and they are coming every 

7 



9 8 



Trials by the Way. 



now and then : perhaps there is some hum- 
bling thorn from which you are never free. 
But was it not all needed? Very few can say 
that they are too humble with it all. Which of 
us can say. that we feel our sinfulness and 
helplessness too much, and that we are clinging 
to our blessed Saviour too earnestly? Which 
of us can say that we feel too deeply our utter 
weakness, and that we are praying too often 
and too heartily for the aids of that Holy 
Spirit who alone can bring us safely through? 
Ah, my readers ! many as may have been our 
trials, our disappointments, our temptations, 
let us thank our God for them ; for we needed 
them all. 

Boyd. 



O not far from me, O my Strength, 
W horn all my times obey ! 
Take from me any thing Thou wilt, 

But go not Thou away. 
And let the storm that does Thy work 
Deal with me as it may. 



99 



On Thy compassion I repose, 

In weakness and distress : 
I will not ask for greater ease, 

Lest I should love Thee less. 
Oh, 'tis a blessed thing for me 

To need Thy tenderness ! 

While many sympathizing hearts 

For my deliverance care, 
Thou, in Thy wiser, stronger love, 

Art teaching me to bear, 
By the sweet voice of thankful song, 

And calm, confiding prayer. 

O comforter of God's redeemed, 

Whom the world does not see ! 
What hand should pluck me from the flood . 

That casts my soul on Thee ? 
Who would not suffer pain like mine, 

To be consoled like me? 

When I am feeble as a child, 

And flesh and heart give way, 
Then, on Thy everlasting strength, 

With passive trust I stay ; 
And the rough wind becomes a song, 

The darkness shines like day. 

A. L. Waring 



xoo 



Trials by the Way. 



gT. PAUL tells us that he did not like the 
thorn in the flesh, — no man can like what 
is painful and humiliating, — and three times he 
besought God that the thorn in the flesh might 
be taken away : N For this thing I besought 
the Lord thrice." Thrice, you know, is a 
number indefinitely used in Scripture : we may 
be sure Paul offered that prayer far oftener 
than the bare three times. Every day, I doubt 
not, when the thorn was first sent, morning, 
evening, noonday, would the earnest supplica- 
tion go up from his very heart, that this heavy 
burucn might be taken from him : surely it 
could never be God's will, that, through the 
long years of all his coming life, he was to bear 
that heavy and crushing weight. My reader, 
have not you done the same? Have you not 
prayed in earnestness, — yea, in bitterness of 
heart, — that some cup appointed you might 
pass away? have not you prayed in earnestness 
that some sore trial, that you thought would 
darken all your life, might be spared you : that 



Trials by the Way. 



101 



some bodily disease would leave you ; that some 
sorrowful bereavement you saw coming might 
be kept off; that the plans and hopes of years 
might not be frustrated ; in short, that your 
special thorn might depart ? And perhaps 
Paul's answer was yours. See what God said 
to Paul's prayer. The thorn in the flesh was 
not to depart. It was to hang about the great 
apostle, burdening and humbling him, till the 
last breath went out from that feeble frame. 
He was never again to be like other men, ■ — 
that great apostle Paul. And yet who shall 
say that his prayer was not answered, — nobly, 
fully, sublimely answered ? There are two 
ways of helping a man, burdened with what 
he has to do or bear : the one way is to give 
him less to do or bear,- — to take the burden 
off the back ; the other way is to strengthen 
him to do or bear all that is sent to him, — to 
strengthen the back to bear the burden. In 
brief, you may give less work, or you may 
give more strength. And it was in this way, 
which even we can see is the better and nobler 



102 Trials bx the Way. 



way, that the wise and almighty Saviour 
thought it best to answer his servants prayer. 
" My grace is sufficient for thee ; for my 
strength is made perfect in weakness." Yes : 
St. Paul's weakness was to be supplemented by 
God's almightv strength ; the thorn was still to 
pierce, but patience to bear it all was to be 
sent; the load was to press heavy on the back, 
but the back was to be strengthened in just de- 
gree. And we do not need to go far for proof 
how completely God's promise was fulfilled. 
How thoroughly resigned Paul was ; how sanc- 
tified to him must that thorn have been : how 
strengthened his heart must have been with an 
unearthly strength. — when he could honestly 
write such words as follow his account of his 
Redeemer's promise ! Oh. the thorn was there, 
piercing as deep as ever, marring his useful- 
ness, making him seem weak and contemptible 
to the stranger ! But he liked to have to feel, 
from hour to hour, that he must be always go- 
ing anew to God for help ; he liked the assur- 
ance of the blessed Spirit's presence, which he 



Trials by the Way. 103 

drew hourly from feeling himself kept up to 
bear, without a murmur, what he knew that 
by himself he never could have borne : and so 
he wrote, not perhaps without a natural tear, 
w Most gladly, therefore, will I rather glory in 
my infirmities, that the power of Christ may 
rest upon me." 

Boyd. 

— ^== 

OOURCE of my life's refreshing springs. 

Whose presence in my heart sustains me. 
Thy love appoints me pleasant things, 
Thy mercy orders all that pains me. 

If loving hearts were never lonely, 

If all they wish might always be. 
Accepting what they look for only, 

They might be glad, but not in Thee. 

We need as much the cross we bear 

As air we breathe, as light we see : 
It draws us to Thy side in prayer, 

It binds us to our strength in Thee. 

A. L. Waring. 



Trials by the Way. 



JH^OES it seem to you impossible that you 
can ever find your way into a path pre- 
pared for you by God, and be led along in it 
by His mighty counsel? Let me tell you a 
secret. It requires a very close, well-kept life 
to do this ; a life in which the soul can have 
confidence always toward God ; a life which 
allows the Spirit always to abide and reign, 
driven away by no affront of selfishness. There 
must be a complete renunciation of self-will. 
God and religion must be practically first ; and 
the testimony that we please God must be the 
element of our peace. And such a disciple I 
have never known who did not have it for his 
joy, that God was leading him on, shaping 
his life for him, bringing him along out of one 
moment into the next, year by year. To such 
a disciple, there is nothing strained or difficult 
in saying, that God's plan can be found, or that 
this is the true mode and privilege of life. 
Nothing to him is easier or more natural. He 
knows God ever present, feels that God deter- 



Trials by the Way. 105 

mines all things for him, rejoices in the confi- 
dence that the everlasting counsel of his Friend 
is shaping every turn of his experience. H< 
does not go hunting after this confidence : i 
comes to him, abides in him, fortifies his breast, 
and makes his existence itself an element of 
peace. And this is your privilege, if only you 
can live close enough to have the secret of the 
Lord with you. 

How sacred, how strong in its repose, how 
majestic, how nearly divine, is a life thus or- 
dered ! The simple thought of a life which is 
to be the unfolding, in this manner, of a Divine 
plan, is too beautiful, too captivating, to suffer 
one indifferent or heedless moment. Living in 
this manner, every turn of your experience 
will be a discovery to you of God, every 
change a token of His Fatherly counsel. 
Whatever obscurity, darkness, trial, suffering, 
falls upon you; your defeats, losses, injuries; 
your outward state, employment, relations ; 
what seems hard, unaccountable, severe, or, as 
nature might say, vexatious, — all these, you 



io6 



Trials by the Way. 



will see, are parts or constitutive elements in 
God's beautiful and good plan for you, and, as 
such, are to be accepted with a smile. Trust 
God, have an implicit trust in God, and these 
very things will impart the highest zest to life. 
If you were in your own will, you could not 
bear them ; and, if you fall at any time into 
your own will, they will break you down. But 
the glory of your condition, as a Christian, is 
that you are in the mighty and good will of 
God. Hence it was that Bunyan called his 
hero Great-heart; for no heart can be weak 
that is in the confidence of God. 

See how it was with Paul, — counting all 
things but loss for the excellency of the 
knowledge ; enduring, with godlike patience, 
unspeakable sufferings ; casting every thing 
behind him, and following on to apprehend 
that for which he was apprehended. He had 
a great and mighty will, but no self-will : 
therefore he was strong, a true lion of the 
faith. Away, then, with all feeble com- 
plaints, all meagre and mean anxieties. 



Trials by the Way. 107 



Take your duty, and be strong in it, as God 
will make you strong. The harder it is, the 
stronger, in fact, you will be. Understand, 
also, that the great question here is, not what 
you will get, but what you will become. The 
greatest wealth you can ever get will be in 
yourself. Take your burdens and troubles and 
losses and wrongs, if come they must and will, 
as your opportunities, knowing that God has 
girded you for greater things than these. Oh, 
to live out such a life as God appoints, how 
great a thing it is ! to do the duties, make 
the sacrifices, bear the adversities, finish the 
plan, and then to say with Christ, "It is 
finished." 

H. BUSHNELL- 



T LONG for household voices gone, 

For vanished smiles I long ; 
But God hath led my dear ones on. 
And He can do no wrong. 



io8 



Tiials by the Way. 



I know not what the future hath 

Of marvel or surprise, 
Assured alone that life and death 

His mercy underlies. 

And if my heart and flesh are weak 

To bear an untried pain, 
The bruised reed He will not break, 

But strengthen and sustain. 

No offering of my own I have, 

Nor works my faith to prove : 
I can but give the gifts He gave, 

And plead His love for love. 

And so, beside the Silent Sea, 

I wait the muffled oar : 
No harm from Him can come to me 

On ocean or on shore. 

I know not where His islands lift 

Their fronded palms in air : 
I only know I cannot drift 

Beyond His love and care. 

J. G. V- HITTIER, 



109 



^0D is the Master of the scenes. We must 
not choose what part we shall act : it con- 
cerns us only to be careful that we do it well, 
always saying, If this flease God, let it he 
as it is. And we, who pray that God's will 
may be done in earth as it is in heaven, must 
remember, that the angels do whatsoever is 
commanded them, and go wherever they are 
sent, and refuse no circumstances ; and, if their 
employment be crossed by a higher decree, 
they sit down in peace, and rejoice in the event. 
Here, therefore, is the wisdom of the contented 
man,— to let God choose for him ; for when we 
have given up our wills to Him, and stand in 
that station of the battle where our great Gen- 
eral hath placed us, our spirits must need rest, 
while our conditions have for their security the 
power, the wisdom, and the charity of God. 

Contentedness in all accidents brings great 
peace of spirit, and is the great and only in- 
strument of temporal felicity. It removes the 
sting from the accident, and makes a man not 



no 



to depend upon chance and the uncertain dis- 
positions of men for his well-being, but only 
on God and his own spirit. We ourselves 
make our fortunes good or bad ; and, when 
God lets loose a tyrant upon us, or a sickness, 
or scorn, or a lessened fortune, if we fear to 
die, or know not to be patient, or are proud or 
covetous, then the calamity sits heavy on us. 
But if we know how to manage a noble princi- 
ple, and fear not death so much as a dishonest 
action, and think impatience a worse evil than 
a fever, and pride to be the biggest disgrace, 
and poverty to be infinitely desirable before the 
torments of covetousness, — then we, who now 
think vice to be so easy, and make it so famil- 
iar, and think the cure so impossible, shall 
quickly be of another mind, and reckon these 
accidents amongst things eligible. 

Suppose thyself in as great a sadness as ever 
did load thy spirit, wouldst thou not bear it 
cheerfully and nobly if thou wert sure, that, 
within a certain space, some strange, excellent 
fortune would relieve thee and enrich thee and 



Trials by the Way. 



ill 



recompense thee, so as to overflow all thy 
hopes and thy desires and capacities? Now, 
then, when a sadness lies heavy upon thee, re- 
member that thou art a Christian designed to 
the inheritance of Jesus ; and what dost thou 
think concerning thy great fortune, thy lot and 
portion of eternity? If thou considerest thy 
own present condition, and comparest it to 
thy future possibility, thou canst not feel the 
present smart of a cross fortune to any great 
degree, either because thou hast a far bigger 
sorrow or a far bigger joy. Here thou art but 
a stranger travelling to thy country, where the 
glories of a kingdom are prepared for thee ; it 
is, therefore, a huge folly to be much afflicted 
because thou hast a less convenient inn to lodge 
in by the way. 

But these arts of looking backwards and for- 
wards are more than enough to support the 
spirit of a Christian : there is no man but hath 
blessings enough in present possession, to out- 
weigh the evils of a great affliction. Tell the 
joints of thy body, and do not accuse the uni- 



112 



Trials by the Way 



versal Providence, for a lame leg or the want of 
a finger, when all the rest is perfect, and you 
have a noble soul, a particle of divinity, the 
image of God Himself; and by the want of a 
finger you may the better know how to estimate 
the remaining parts, and to account for every 
degree of the surviving blessings. And he 
that hath so many causes of joy and so great, 
is very much in love with sorrow and peev- 
ishness, who loses all these pleasures, and 
chooses to sit down upon his little handful of 
thorns. Enjoy the blessings of this day, if 
God sends them, and the evils of it bear pa- 
tiently and sweetly : for this day only is ours 5 
we are dead to yesterday, and we are not yet 
born to the morrow. 

In all troubles and sadder accidents, let us 
take sanctuary in religion ; and, by innocence, 
cast out anchors for our souls, to keep them 
from shipwreck, though they be not kept from 
storm. The greatest evils are from within us, 
and from ourselves also we must look for our 
greatest good : for God is the fountain of it, but 



Trials by the Way. 



"3 



reaches it to us by our own hand ; and, when 
all things look sadly round about us, then only 
we shall find how excellent a fortune it is to 
have God to our friend : and, of all friendships, 
that only is created to support us in our needs. 

Jeremy Taylor. 



T THINK we are too ready with complaint 

In this fair world of God's. Had we no hope, 
Indeed, beyond the zenith and the slope 
Of yon gray blank of sky, we might be faint 
To muse upon eternity's constraint 
Round our aspirant souls. But since the scope 
Must widen early, is it well to droop, 
For a few days consumed in loss and taint? 
O pusillanimous heart ! be comforted, 
And, like a cheerful traveller, take the road, 
Singing beside the hedge. What if the bread 
Be bitter in thine inn, and thou unshod 
To meet the flints? At least it may be said, 
" Because the way is short, I thank thee, God." 

Mrs. E. B. Browning. 



8 



H4 Trials by* the Way. 



TJOW shalt thou bear the cross which now 

So dread a weight appears ? 
Keep quietly to God, and think 
Upon the Eternal Years. 



Bear gently, suffer like a child, 

Nor be ashamed of tears ; 
Kiss the sweet cross, and in thy heart 

Sing of the Eternal Years. 

Faber, 



WORK FOR CHRIST. 



"And whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these littlb 

ONES A CUP OF COLD WATER ONLY, IN THE NAME OF A DISCIPLE, VERILY 
I SAY UNTO YOU, HE SHALL IN NO WISE LOSE HIS REWARD." — Matt. 
X. 4.2. 



WORK FOR CHRIST. 



JT is not they alone who are trying purposely 
to convert or corrupt others, who exert an 
influence : you cannot live without exerting in- 
fluence. The doors of your soul are open on 
others, and theirs on you. You inhabit a house 
which is well-nigh transparent ; and what you 
are within, you are ever showing yourself to 
be without, by signs that have no ambiguous 
expression. If you had the seeds of a pesti- 
lence in your body, you would not have a more 
active contagion than you have in your tem- 
pers, tastes, and principles. Simply to be in 
this world, whatever you are, is to exert an 



n8 



Work for Christ. 



influence, — an influence, too, compared with 
which mere language and persuasion are fee- 
ble. You say that you mean well; at least, 
you think you mean to injure no one. Do you 
injure no one? Is your example harmless? Is 
it ever on the side of God and duty? You can- 
not reasonably doubt that others are continually 
receiving impressions from your character. As 
little can you doubt, that you must answer for 
these impressions. If the influence you exert 
is unconsciously exerted, then it is onlv the 
most sincere, the truest expression, of your 
character. 

The true philosophy or method of doing 
good is here explained. It is, first of all and 
principally, to be good, — to have a character 
that will of itself communicate good. There 
must and will be active effort where there is 
goodness of principle ; but the latter we should 
hold to be the principal thing, — the root and 
life of all. The Christian is called a light, not 
lightning. In order to act with effect on 
others, he must walk in the Spirit, and thus 



Work for Christ. 



119 



become the image of goodness ; he must be so 
akin to God, and so filled with His dispositions, 
that he shall seem to surround himself with a 
hallowed atmosphere. It is folly to endeavor 
to make ourselves shine before we are luminous. 
If the sun without his beams should talk to the 
planets, and argue with them till the final day, 
it would not make them shine : there must be 
light in the sun itself, and then they will shine 
of course. And this is what God intends for 
you all. It is the great idea of His gospel and 
the work of His Spirit, to make you lights in 
the world. His greatest joy is to give you 
character, to beautify your example, to exalt 
your principles, and make you each the deposi- 
tory of His own almighty grace. But, in order 
to this, something is necessary on your part, — 
a full surrender of your mind to duty and to 
God, and a perpetual desire of this spiritual 
intimacy. Having this, having a participation 
thus of the goodness of God, you will as 
naturally communicate good as the sun com- 
municates his beams. H. Bushnell. 



120 Work for Christ. 



J" ^ATE to our town there came a maid, 

A noble woman, true and pure ; 
Who, in the little while she stayed, 
Wrought works that shall endure. 

It was not any thing she said, — 
It was not any thing she did : 

It was the movement of her head, 
The lifting of her lid ; 

Her little motions, when she spoke ; 

The presence of an upright soul ; 
The living light that from her broke, — 

It was the perfect whole. 

We saw it in her floating hair, 
We saw it in her laughing eye ; 

For every look and feature there 
Wrought works that cannot die. 

She passed, — she went to other lands ; 

She knew not of the work she did : 
The wondrous product of her hands, 

From her is ever hid. 



Work for Christ. 



121 



For ever, did I say ? Oh no ! 

The time must come when she will look 
Upon her pilgrimage below, 

And find it in God's book ; 

That, as she trod her path aright, 
Power from her very garments stole : 

For such is the mysterious might 
God grants the upright soul. 

A deed, a word, our careless rest, 
A simple thought, a common feeling, 

If He be present in the breast, 
Has from Him powers of healing. 

J. H. Perkins. 



^JpiLL we have reflected on it, we are scarcely 
aware how much the sum of human hap- 
piness in the world is indebted to this one 
feeling, — sympathy. We get cheerfulness 
and vigor, we scarcely know how or when, 
from mere association with our fellow-men; 
and from the looks reflected on us of gladness 



122 



and enjoyment, we catch inspiration and power 
to go on, from human presence and from cheer- 
ful looks. The workman works with added 
energy from having others by. The full family 
circle has a strength and a life peculiarly its 
own. The substantial good and the effectual 
relief which men extend to one another is 
trifling. It is not by these, but by something 
far less costly, that the work is done. God 
has insured it by a much more simple machi- 
nery. He has given to the weakest and the 
poorest, power to contribute largely to the com- 
mon stock of gladness. The child's smile and 
laugh are mighty powers in this world. When 
bereavement has left you desolate, what sub- 
stantial benefit is there which makes condolence 
acceptable? It cannot replace the loved ones 
you have lost; it can bestow upon you nothing 
permanent. But a warm hand has touched 
yours ; and its thrill told you, that there was a 
living response there to your emotion. One 
look, one human sigh, has done more for 
you than the costliest present could convey. 

F. W. Robertson. 



Work for Christ. 



123 



PPORTUXITIES of doing good do not 



come back. We are here for a most defi- 
nite and intelligible purpose, — to educate our 
own hearts by deeds of love, and to be the 
instruments of blessing to our brother-men. 
There are two ways in which this is to be done : 
by guarding them from danger, and by soothing 
them in their rough path by kindly sympathies, 
— the two things which the apostles were asked 
to do for Christ. And it is an encouraging 
thought, that he who cannot do the one, has 
at least the other in his power. If he cannot 
protect, he can sympathize. Let the weakest, 
let the humblest remember, that, in his daily 
course, he can, if he will, shed around him 
almost a heaven. Kindly words, sympathizing 
attentions, watchfulness against wounding men's 
sensitiveness, — these cost very little; but they 
are priceless in their value. Are they not 
almost the staple of our daily happiness? From 
hour to hour, from moment to moment, we are 
supported, blest, by small kindnesses. 




F. W. Robertson. 



Work for Christ. 



say not we through life must struggle 
Must toil and mourn alone ; 
That no one human heart can answer 
The beatings of our own. 

The stars look down from the silent heaven 

Into the quiet stream, 
And see themselves from its dewy depths, 

In fresher beauty gleam. 

The sky, with its pale or glowing hues, 
Ever painteth the wave below ; 

And the sea sends up its mist to form 

Bright clouds and the heavenly bow. 

Thus each does of the other borrow 

A beauty not its own, 
And tells us that no thing in Nature 

Is for itself alone. 



Alone, amid life's griefs and perils, 
The stoutest heart may quail ; 

Left to its own unaided efforts, 
The strongest arm may fail. 



Work for Christ. 



And though all strength still comes from Heaven, 

All light from God above. 
Yet we may sometimes be His angels, 

The apostles of His love. 

Then let us learn to help each other, 

Hoping unto the end : 
Who sees in every man a brother, 

Shall find in each a friend. 

Hymns of the Ages. 

TN Christ, the second Adam, we have a new 
relationship to all human beings. In Christ, 
the Head of the Church, we have a new and 
immortal relationship to all Christians. "In 
that ye did it to the least of these my brethren, 
ye did it unto me," Link these words to the 
other, let the life of faith overflow into the life 
of service, and never more shall you complain 
of isolation or loneliness, — of none to love 
you, or of none for you to serve. See in every 
suffering, tried, sinful man and woman around 
you, those whom your Lord pitied, loved, died 
for; those who may be led from whatever 



126 



Work for Christ. 



depth, who may be led by your voice and your 
hand, to be blessed as you are in Him. Go 
forth every morning, not from His presence, 
but in His presence, strong in the faith of His 
personal love to you, and you shall find the 
hardest yoke easy, and the heaviest burden 
light; for the burdens of circumstance and 
earthly trial are light indeed to those whose 
hearts are set free from the burden of miilt, 
from the weight of an aimless life, from the 
weight of an empty heart crushed by its own 
vacuum. Mrs. Charles. 



Ij^OU say with a sigh, "Oh, if I had nothing 
to do but just to be with Christ person- 
ally, and have my duty solely as with Him, 
how sweet and blessed and secret and free 
would it be !" Well, you may have it so : ex- 
actly this you may do, and nothing more. Sad 
mistake that you should ever have thought 
otherwise : what a loss of privilege has it been ! 
Come back, then, to Christ; retire into the 



Work for Christ. 



127 



secret place of His love, and have your whole 
duty personally as with Him. Only then you 
will make this very welcome discovery, that, as 
you are personally given up to Christ's person, 
you are going where He goes, helping what 
He does ; keeping ever dear, bright company 
with Him in all His motions of good and sym- 
pathy ; refusing even to let Him suffer, without 
suffering with Him. And so you will do a 
great many more duties than you even think 
of now ; only they will all be sweet and easy 
and free, even as your love is. You will stoop 
low, and bear the load of many, and be the ser- 
vant of all ; but it will be a secret joy that you 
have with your Master personally. You will 
not be digging out points of conscience, and 
debating what your duty is to this or that, or 
him or her, or here or yonder : indeed, you will 
not think that you are doing much for Christ 
any way, — not half enough ; and yet He will 
be saying to you every hour, in sweetest appro- 
bation, "Ye did it unto me." 

H. BUSHNELL. 



128 



J^/TUST I my brother keep, 

And share his pains and toil 
And weep with those that weep, 
And smile with those that smile ; 
And act to each a brother's part, 
And feel his sorrows in my heart? 

Must I his burden bear 

As though it were my own ; 
And do as I would care 
Should to myself be done ; 
And faithful to his interests prove, 
And as myself my neighbor love ? 

Must I reprove his sin ; 

Must I partake his grief; 
And kindly enter in 
And minister relief; 
The naked clothe, the hungry feed, 
And love him not in word, but deed? 

Then, Jesus, at Thy feet 

A student let me be, 
And learn, as it is meet, 
My duty, Lord, of Thee ; 
For Thou didst come on mercy's plan, 
And all Thy life was love to man. 



Work for Christ. 



129 



OD'S people shall renew their strength , 



and mount up with wings as eagles. 
But it is quite a mistake to fancy, that, like that 
bird which builds her nest on the dizzy crag, 
and soars aloft and sails along in the paths of 
the clouds and thunder, religion belongs only 
to the highest, and what are called holy, duties 
of life. While she rises to its highest, she 
stoops to its meanest, occupations. As well as 
the seraphs that sing before the throne ; as the 
heralds who sound the trumpet of the gospel, 
and proclaim salvation to perishing sinners ; as 
the Christian who enters his closet to hold com- 
munion with God, — they are doing the work of 
the Lord who kindle a fire, or sweep a floor, or 
guide a plough, or sit over a desk, or work at a 
bench, or break stones on the road, with a de- 
sire so to do their work, that God may thereby 
be glorified. All work, done from such motives 
and for such an end, becomes the work of the 
Lord; and thus our life, in all its phases, en- 
tirely spent in the w T ork of the Lord, shuuld 

9 




13° 



Work for Christ. 



flow on like a river, which, however rough its 
bed, short or long its course, tame or grand 
the scenes through which it passes, springs 
from a lofty fountain, and, born of the skies, 
bears blessings in its waters, and heaven re- 
flected in its bosom. 

Guthrie. 



JT is they who glorify God who shall enjoy 
Him ; they who deny themselves, who 
shall not be denied; they who labor on earth, 
who shall rest in heaven ; they who bear the 
cross, who shall wear the crown; they who 
seek to bless others, who shall be blessed : nor 
is there a prayer you offer, one good word you 
drop, a work of mercy you undertake, a tear 
you shed for sinners, a loaf you carry to a poor 
man's door, a cup of water, even a kind look 
given to human sorrow, that shall be forgotten. 
All are recorded in the Chronicles of the King- 
dom, and shall be acknowledged in the pres- 



Work for Christ. 



ence of an assembled universe, when, unnoticed 
and unknown no longer, you bend your head 
for the blood-bought crown ; and Christ, as He 
places it on immortal brows, says, "Thus shall 
it be done to the man whom the King delight- 
eth to honor." 

The sun is not less resplendent for all the 
light he sheds w T hen he sinks in the golden west ; 
nor the sea, when she roars along the shore, 
less full for all the showers she gives ; nor the 
rose, the lily, or the jessamine less fragrant for 
all the odors they fling on the passing breeze ; 
nor the earth leaner, but fatter, for the cattle 
that tread its pastures and the harvests that are 
borne from its fields : and even so it will be 
found, that they who have lived most for others 
have lived best for themselves. The God whose 
glory, not their own, they sought, shall not for- 
get to glorify them ; and, rewarding what they 
did for others as done to Himself, their Judge 
shall say, n Inasmuch as ye did it to one of the 
least of them, ye did it unto me." 

Guthrie 



Work for Christ. 



CEE the rivers flowing 

Downwards to the sea, 
Pouring all their treasures 

Bountiful and free : 
Yet, to help their giving, 

Hidden springs arise ; 
Or, if need be, showers 

Feed them from the skies. 

Watch the princely flowers 

Their rich fragrance spread, 
Load the air with perfumes, 

From their beauty shed : 
Yet their lavish spending 

Leaves them not in dearth ; 
With fresh life replenished 

By their mother earth. 

Give thy heart's best treasures, — 

From fair nature learn ; 
Give thy love, and ask not, 

Wait not, a return : 
And the more thou spendest 

From thy little store, 
With a double bounty, 

God will give thee more. 

A. A. Procter. 



Work for Christ. 



133 



HE benevolence of the gospel lies in ac- 



tion. The benevolence of our fictitious 
writers is a kind of high-wrought delicacy of 
feeling and sentiment. The one dissipates all 
its fervors in sighs and tears and idle aspira- 
tions : the other reserves its strength for efforts 
and execution. The one regards it as a luxu- 
rious enjoyment for the heart : the other, as a 
work and business for the hand. The one sits 
in indolence, and broods, in visionary rapture, 
over its schemes of ideal philanthropy: the 
other steps abroad, and enlightens, by its pres- 
ence, the dark and pestilential hovels of disease. 
The one wastes away in empty ejaculation : 
the other gives time and trouble to the work 
of beneficence, gives education to the orphan, 
provides clothes for the naked, and lays food 
on the tables of the hungry. The one is indo- 
lent and capricious, and often does mischief by 
the occasional overflowings of a whimsical and 
ill-directed charity : the other is vigilant and 
discerning, and takes care lest its distributions 




134 Work for Christ. 

be injudicious, and the efforts of benevolence 
be misapplied. The one is soothed with the 
luxury of feeling, and reclines in easy and in- 
dolent satisfaction: the other shakes off the 
deceitful languor of contemplation and solitude, 
and delights in a scene of activity. Remember 
that virtue, in general, is not to feel, but to do ; 
not merely to conceive a purpose, but to carry 
that purpose into execution : not merely to be 
overpowered by the impression of a sentiment, 
but to practise what it loves, and to imitate 
what it admires. 

To be benevolent in speculation is often to 
be selfish in action and in reality. The vanity 
and the indolence of man deludes him into a 
thousand inconsistencies. He professes to love 
the name and the semblance of virtue : but the 
labor of exertion and of self-denial terrifies 
him from attempting it. The emotions of kind- 
ness are delightful to his bosom ; but then they 
are little better than a seliish indulgence. 
They terminate in his own enjoyment. Thev 
are a mere refinement of luxury. His eve 



Work for Christ. 



135 



melts over the picture of fictitious distress, 
while not a tear is left for the actual starvation 
and misery by which he is surrounded. It is 
easy to indulge the imaginations of a visionary 
heart, in going over a scene of fancied affliction ; 
because here there is no sloth to overcome, no 
avaricious propensity to control, no offensive 
or disgusting circumstance to allay the unmin- 
gled impression of sympathy which a soft and 
elegant picture is calculated to awaken. It is 
not so easy to be benevolent in action and in 
reality ; because here there is fatigue to under- 
go, there is time and money to give, there is 
the mortifying spectacle of vice and folly and 
ingratitude to encounter. 

Benevolence is not in word and in tongue, 
but in deed and in truth. It is a business with 
men as they are, and with human life as drawn 
by the rough hand of experience. It is a duty 
which you must perform at the call of princi- 
ple, though there be no voice of eloquence to 
give splendor to your exertions, and no music 
of poetry to lead your willing footsteps through 



Work for Christ. 



the bowers of enchantment. It is an exertion 
of principle. You must go to the poor man's 
cottage, though no verdure flourish around it, 
and no rivulet be nigh to delight you by the 
gentleness of its murmurs. If you look for 
the romantic simplicity of fiction, you will be 
disappointed; but it is your duty to persevere, 
in spite of every discouragement. Benevo- 
lence is not merely a feeling, but a principle ; 
not a dream of rapture for the fancy to indulge 
in, but a business for the hand to execute. 

Chalmers, 

TF you have not gold or silver 

Ever ready to command, 
If you cannot towards the needy 

Reach an ever-open hand, — 
You can visit the afflicted, 

O'er the erring you can weep ; 
You can be a true disciple, 

Sitting at the Saviour's feet. 



If you cannot in the conflict 
Prove yourself a soldier true ; 



Work for Christ. 



137 



If, where fire and smoke are thickest, 
There's no work for you to do, — 

When the battle-field is silent, 
You can go with careful tread, 

You can bear away the wounded, 
You can cover up the dead. 

Do not, then, stand idly waiting 

For some greater work to do : 
Fortune is a lazy goddess ; 

She will never come to you. 
Go and toil in any vineyard, 

Do not fear to do or dare ; 
If you want a field of labor, 

You can find it anywhere. 



JS^ MAN in adversity is like a wrecked and 
dismantled ship upon the deserted strand : 
he needeth much reparation and outfit before 
he can be of use to any one. A man in pros- 
perity is like a ship full laden with costly 
goods, which is a prize to every one that is 
needy, and an honor to every one who hath in 



133 



Work for Christ. 



her any share or interest. A man who is re- 
jected and despised of the world, is like a ship 
that is not seaworthy, in which no one will risk 
an atom of his wealth, and which proves a clog 
upon the course of any free and fair sailing 
vessel: whereas a man whom the world em- 
braced] with its favors, and who flourisheth in 
prosperity, is like a convoy ship, under whose 
lofty and armed sides many sail in safetv. 
"Who is he that hath had the world set against 
him. or whom the world hath dashed from 
his anchorage ground, that hath not known, 
amidst these back waters of the soul, the good 
and the strength of heart there is in a friend 
upon whom to tall back, and by whom to be 
received as into a haven, and lined out again 
for another encounter? Ha PP y is he who hath 
one into whose ear his soul may tell its calam- 
ities, show its weaknesses, and lay open its 
wounds : from whose lips it may receive the 
consolation and tender counsels it needeth : at 
whose hand accept the help. and. if need be, 
the medicine, which cures adversity ; and whose 



Work for Christ. 



139 



bitterness is savory, when administered by the 
hand of a friend ! Eloquence might exhaust 
itself in speaking the praises of a man who 
can discern the value of a soul in its dismantled 
state, stripped of all outward embellishments, 
and struggling hard with its bristling ills and 
thick-coming trials : who can say, '* Come to my 
home, with a welcome ; come for a season, and 
take shelter until the storm be overpast; come, 
and I will make thee a chamber upon the wall, 
where thou shalt be free to go out and in un- 
molested, and share our bread and our water." 
I tell you of a truth, the man who can so en- 
treat a ruined man, is worth a whole streetful 
of visit-exchanging citizens. He is the good 
Samaritan, whom Christ painted to the life for 
all His followers. He will stand in the iudsr- 
ment, because he took the stranger in, and 
clothed the naked, and fed the hungry, and 
gave the thirst}' drink. There is immortality 
in these actions : their memory never fails, and 
the remembrance of them delights the soul for 
ever. 

E. Irving. 



140 



Work for Christ. 



HY neighbor? It is he whom thou 
Hast power to aid and bless, 



Thy soothing hand may press. 

Thy neighbor? 'Tis the fainting poor, 
Whose eye with want is dim ; 

Whom hunger sends from door to door : 
Go thou, and succor him. 

Thy neighbor? 'Tis that weary man, 
Whose years are at their brim, 

Bent low with sickness, cares, and pain : 
Go thou, and comfort him. 

Thy neighbor ? 'Tis the heart bereft 

Of every earthly gem ; 
Widow and orphan, helpless left : 

Go thou, and shelter them. 




Whose aching heart or burning brow 



Peabody 



Work for Christ. 



141 



JJJOW often, in our daily life, in the social 
intercourse which we hold with our fel- 
low-men, if we will not bear witness for Christ 
on the moment, Ave cannot do so at all ! If we 
will not throw ourselves into the gap at the in- 
stant, then, while we are deliberating, while 
we are mustering our tardy forces, the gap is 
closed, and it becomes impossible for us to do 
at all what we would not do at once. The 
stream of conversation flows on, and cannot be 
brought back to the point where it then was. 
The pernicious maxim was left unreproved : the 
word dishonorable to God or injurious to His 
servants, to His truth, was suffered to pass by 
unrebuked : and it must continue so now ; for 
that word which we would not speak at once, 
we cannot now speak at all. 

Nor does it fare otherwise with acts of kind- 
ness and deeds of love. It is, indeed, quite 
true of these, that, in one shape or another, 
they may always be done by those who have 
any mind or affection to them. In a world of 



I 4 2 



Work for Christ. 



woe like ours, the stripped and wounded trav- 
eller lies ever in the way, if only there be the 
good Samaritan to see him and to help him. 
But it is not the less true, that many pre- 
cious opportunities of binding up wounds, and 
strengthening the weak, may escape us unim- 
proved, and may have passed from us for ever , 
for they are as guests from another world, 
whom, if we do not invite to turn in upon the 
instant when they show themselves to us, we 
may afterwards follow, but we shall not overtake 
them, — least of all shall we persuade to turn 
back again at our bidding. The need which 
we might have helped, but did not, another has 
helped in our stead : or it has outgrown all 
human help, because we would not help it in 
time. The prayers which we might have 
offered for a suffering brother in the hour ot 
his sore temptation or his pain, with which 
we might have helped him, — he has struggled 
through without them, or has passed, it may 
be, into a world where they cannot reach to 
aid him. R - c - Trench. 



Work for Christ. 



OOW with a generous hand: 
v ^ Pause not for toil or pain, 
Weary not through the heat of summer, 

Weary not through the cold spring rain 
But wait till the autumn comes 

For the sheaves of golden grain. 

Scatter the seed, and fear not : 

A table will be spread ; 
What matter if you are too weary 

To eat your hard-earned bread? 
Sow while the earth is broken ; 

For the hungry must be fed. 

Sow : while the seeds are lying 
In the warm earth's bosom deep, 

And your warm tears fall upon it, 
They will stir in their quiet sleep ; 

And the green blades rise the quicker, 
Perchance, for the tears you weep. 

Then sow ; for the hours are fleeting, 
And the seed must fall to-day : 

And care not what hands shall reap it, 
Or if you shall have passed away 



i 4 4 



Work for Christ. 



Before the waving cornfields 
Shall gladden the sunny day. 

Sow : and look onward, upward, 
Where the starry light appears, — 

Where, in spite of the coward's doubting, 
Or your own heart's trembling fears, 

You shall reap in joy the harvest 
You have sown to-day in tears. 

A. A. Procter. 

^J^HBRE are people who would do great 
acts ; but, because they wait for great op- 
portunities, life passes, and the acts of love are 
not done at all. Observe, this considerateness 
of Christ was shown in little things. And such 
are the parts of human life. Opportunities for 
doing greatly seldom occur : life is made up 
of infinitesimals. If you compute the sum of 
happiness in any given day, you will find that 
it was composed of small attentions, kind looks, 
which made the heart swell, and stirred into 
health that sour, rancid film of misanthropy 
which is apt to coagulate on the stream of our 



Work for Christ. 



MS 



inward life, as surely as we live in heart apart 
from our fellow-creatures. Doubtless, the 
memory of each one of us will furnish him 
with the picture of some member of a family, 
whose very presence seemed to shed happiness ; 
a daughter, perhaps, whose light step, even in 
the distance, irradiated everyone's countenance. 
What was the secret of such a one's power? 
What had she done ? Absolutely nothing ; but 
radiant smiles, beaming good humor, the tact 
of divining what every one felt and every cne 
wanted, told that she had got out of self, and 
learned to think for others : so that at one time 
it showed itself in deprecating the quarrel, 
which lowering brows and raised tones already 
showed to be impending, by sweet words ; 
at another, by smoothing an invalid's pillow ; 
at another, by soothing a sobbing child ; at 
another, by humoring and softening a father, 
who had returned weary and ill-tempered from 
the irritating cares of business. None but she 
saw those things. None but a loving heart 
could see them. 

10 



146 



Work for Christ. 



That was the secret of her heavenly power. 
Call you these things homely trifles? By refer- 
ence to the character of Christ, they rise into 
something quite sublime ; for that is loving as 
He loved. And remark, too, these trifles pre- 
pared for larger deeds. The one who will be 
found in trial capable of great acts of love, is 
ever the one who is always doing considerate 
small ones. The Soul which poured itself out 
to death upon the cross for the human race, 
was the spirit of Him who thought of the wants 
of the people, contrived for the rest of the dis- 
ciples, and was thoughtful for a mother. 

F. W. Robertson. 

"X/TET in herself she dwelleth not, 

- 1 - Although no home were half so fair ; 
No simplest duty is forgot ; 
Life hath no dim and lowly spot 

That doth not in her sunshine share. 

She doeth little kindnesses 

Which most leave undone or despise , 



Work for Christ. 



147 



For naught that sets one heart at ease, 
And giveth happiness or peace, 
Is low-esteemed in her eyes. 

She hath no scorn of common things 5 
And, though she seem of other birth, 

Round us her heart entwines and clings, 

And patiently she folds her wings 
To tread the humble paths of earth. 

Blessing she is : God made her so ; 

And deeds of week-day holiness 
Fall from her noiseless as the snow, 
Nor hath she ever chanced to know 

That aught were easier than to bless. 

J. R. Lowell. 



A BUSY, useful, holy life, and none other, 
J ^ is a life of well-doing; is a noble life, 
though passed in a cottage ; is a happy one, 
though its path be rough and thorny. In a 
world where there is much to do, it allots little 
time for self-enjoyments, and no time for sinful 
ones. Filled up with the duties of home and 



148 



Work for Christ. 



business, with the paramount interests of" eter- 
nity and of our souls, with good deeds done to 
others and the claims they have on our help, 
its days, instead of walking on leaden feet, 
seem to fly on eagles' wings ; the busiest life 
appearing all too idle, and the longest proving 
all too short, for the work we have to do. Like 
a toil-worn laborer, weary in, though not of, 
his work, the Christian may sometimes wish it 
were concluded, and long for sunset that he 
might leave the field to go home, — his the 
desire of the Psalmist, "Oh that I had the 
wings of a dove, that I might fly away and be 
at rest ! " Yet — toiling and enduring, bearing 
others' burdens along with his own, living not 
for himself, regarding every day as lost which 
is not marked by some good got or done, and 
regarding himself as the steward of God's 
bounty ; not a lord, but a laborer, in the vine- 
yard — that man, though he may be weary m t 
will not be weary of, well-doing. 

Whoever may be pouring water on a sand 
bed ; running their horses on a rock and plough- 



Work for Christ. 



149 



ing there with oxen ; beating the air and spend- 
ing their strength for nought; giving their 
money for that which is not bread, and their 
labor for that which profiteth not, — it is not 
such as, in the words of the apostle, are " care- 
ful to maintain good works." Engaging in 
these, we shall reap if we faint not. No pain 
suffered, nor service rendered, nor work done 
for Christ, is lost : the very shame we bear for 
Him shall be transformed into immortal laurels ; 
and every tear shed like His over human sor- 
row, or hers who bent in penitence at His feet, 
shall be a pearl in the heavenly crown. The 
poorer we become for Christ, we shall grow the 
richer. The more we forget ourselves, the 
more will He remember us. Even a cup of cold 
water, given to a disciple in the name of a dis- 
ciple, has the promise of a rich reward ; while, 
of all the saints in the kingdom of heaven, they 
shall shine brightest, and sing loudest, and en- 
ter in fullest measure into the joys of their Lord, 
whose life has most resembled His. Most 
blessed they that tread the closest on the steps 



Work for Christ. 



of one who came not to be ministered unto, but 
to minister ; who spent His days going about 
doing good; and whose life, till it closed in a 
bloody death, amply fulfilled the promise of 
its dawn, of His earliest recorded saying, 
of this reply to Mary : K How is it that ye 
sought me? Wist ye not that I must be about 
my Fathers business?" — "I heard a voice 
from heaven saying unto me," says St. John, 
"Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the 
Lord from henceforth : Yea, saith the Spirit, 
that they may rest from their labors ; and their 
works do follow them." 

Guthrie. 



TTE liveth long who liveth well ; 

A All other life is short and vain : 
He liveth longest who can tell 
Of living most for heavenly gain. 

He liveth long who liveth well ; 

All else is being flung away : 
He liveth longest who can tell 

Of true things truly done each day. 



Work for Christ. 



Waste not thy being ; back to Him, 

Who freely gave it, freely give : 
Else is that being but a dream, — 

'Tis but to be, and not to live. 

Be what thou seemest ; live thy creed ; 

Hold up to earth the torch divine : 
Be what thou prayest to be made ; 

Let the great Master's steps be thine. 

Sow love, and taste its fruitage pure ; 

Sow peace, and reap its harvest bright ; 
Sow sunbeams on the rock and moor, 

And find a harvest-home of light. 

H. Bonar. 



FERVENT spirit is the most abundant 
source of an active life. In heaven there 
is a perfect activity, because in heaven there is 
a perfect fervor. They are all happy there. 
They have a sufficient end in all they do. 
There is no wearying in their work, for there 
is no waning in their love. The want of a suf- 
ficient object would make any man idle. A 



152 Work for Christ. 

friend once found the author of "The Seasons" 
in bed long after noon ; and, upbraiding him 
for his indolence, the poet remarked, that he 
just lay still because, if he were up, he would 
have nothing to do. But, even in this sluggish 
world, there are those whose hearty relish of 
their work, and sense of its importance, so in- 
spire them, that they are very loath, when 
slumber constrains them, to quit it, and often 
prevent the dawning in order to resume it. It 
was mathematical fervor which kept Newton 
poring on his problems, till the midnight wind 
swept over his papers the ashes from his long- 
extinguished fire. It was artistic fervor which 
kept Reynolds with the pencil in his glowing 
hand for thirty-six hours together, evoking 
from the canvas forms of beauty that seemed 
glad to come. It was poetic fervor which sus- 
tained Dryden in a fortnight's frenzy, when 
composing his Ode on St. Cecilia's Day, heed- 
less of privations, which he did not so much 
as perceive. It was classical fervor which, for 
six successive months, constrained the German 



Work for Christ. 



scholar, Heyne, to allow himself no more than 
two nights of weekly rest, that he might com- 
plete his perusal of the old Greek authors. 
And it was scientific fervor w r hich dragged the 
lazy but eloquent French naturalist, Buffon, 
from beloved slumbers to his still more beloved 
studies, for many years together. There is no 
department of human distinction which cannot 
record its feats of fervor. But shall science, 
with its corruptible crowns, and the world with 
its vanities, monopolize this enthusiasm? If 
not, let each one consider, What is the greatest 
self-denial to which a godly zeal has prompted 
me? Which is the largest or the greatest work 
through which a holy fervor has ever carried 
me ? Hamilton. 



HAT are we set on earth for? Say, to toil ; 



* * Nor seek to leave thy tending of the vines, 
For all the heat o' the day, till it declines, 
And Death's mild curfew shall from work assoil. 
God did anoint thee with his odorous oil, 




*54 



Work for Christ. 



To wrestle, not to reign ; and He assigns 
All thy tears over, like pure crystallines, 
For younger fellow-workers of the soil 
To wear for amulets. So others shall 
Take patience, labor, to their heart and hands, 
From thy hands, and thy heart, and thy brave cheer 
And God's grace fructify through thee to all : 
The least flower, with a brimming cup, may stand, 
And share its dew-drop with another near. 

Mrs. E. B. Browning 



"*J^HE Master instructs us how to greet new- 
born souls on their entrance into life, 
with what feelings to take them into our arms, 
what estimate to put on their immortal capacity, 
and with what grand purpose to educate them. 
All this He includes in the precept, that we 
K receive them in His name." Could the sacred 
and profound and peculiar duty which Chris- 
tendom owes to its offspring be more compre- 
hensively declared? How can we be said to 
receive children in the name of Christ? Plainly 
enough, it is not by lavishing upon them a sen- 



Work for Christ. 



155 



timental admiration, or an indulgent fondness ; 
it is not by making them the materials of a 
thoughtless amusement ; it is not by rejoicing 
over them with a selfish sort of pride, as the 
heirs of our property or the upholders of our 
worldly reputation ; it is not by carelessness of 
their spiritual training, and neglect of their 
souls. On the contrary, it is by regarding 
them as the lawful inheritors of Christ's spir- 
itual promises; as the intended members of 
His church, and imitators of His life, and par- 
takers of His redemption; as the appointed 
subjects of baptism, of prayer, and of inward 
renewal; as being born, each one, to yield 
the world a Christian character ; and thus as 
being profanely and terribly wronged whenever 
an irreligious indifference cheats them of this 
immortal portion, This, Christ would teach 
us, is to receive children in His name. This 
is to take them for what they are ; solemnly to 
take them into our hands, as out of the hand 
of God ; and, while clasping them to our breasts 
with natural human love, to look reverently up 



Work for Christ. 



to their higher Father, and lift consecrating 
petitions that they may be saved in the life 
everlasting. Do this, and you will have no 
occasion to run in search of a visible empire or 
outward honors. You may cease contending 
with one another, ambitious disciples, about 
high places in the government, and turn your 
emulation into a more domestic realm. Do 
this, parents; and the kingdom of heaven will 
come in the natural way, handed down from 
parent to child in the blood and all the heredi- 
tary influences of believing generations, spread- 
ing and gaining power with all the growth and 
progress of the race. Do this, fathers and 
mothers ; and, instead of prostituting your en- 
ergies to base contentions after the prizes of 
fortune or reputation, you will find your dig- 
nity and reward in developing imperishable 
graces in your children's hearts. Instead of 
honoring earthly princedoms, or an aristocracy 
of wealth, you will honor the Divine image in 
the lowliest infant. To symbolize this spiritual 
truth, the Divine Redeemer Himself became a 



Work for Christ. 



child ; He passed to the glory of His mediator- 
ship and the right hand of the Father through 
the swaddling-clothes that all humanity must 
wear ; He entered into the complete experience 
of the race, by being a babe in a cradle ; the 
sages knelt at the manger ; intellect bowed to 
spirituality. And now, to this day, whatever 
Christian parent, out of a living and supreme 
faith in Christ, recognizes the sanctity of a 
child's life, and diligently trains him up to be 
a disciple, receives that child in the name of 
Christ, and gives the surest evidence that he 
has received Christ himself. 

F. D. Hunting! on. 



'"T^HE Master has come over Jordan," 

Said Hannah, the mother, one day ; 
" Is healing the people, who throng Him, 
With a touch of His finger, they say. 

And now I shall carry the children, — 
Little Rachel and Samuel and John ; 



158 Work for Christ. 



I shall carry the baby, Esther, 
For the Lord to look upon." 

The father looked at her kindly ; 
But he shook his head, and smiled, 
" Now, who but a doting mother 
Would think of a thing so wild ? 

If the children were tortured by demons, 
Or dying of fever, 't were well ; 

Or had they the taint of the leper, 
Like many in Israel." 

44 Nay, do not hinder me, Nathan ; 
I feel such a burden of care : 
If I carry it to the Master, 
Perhaps I shall leave it there. 

If He lay His hand on the children, 
My heart will be lighter, I know ; 

For a blessing for ever and ever 
Will follow them as they go." 

So over the hills of Judah, 

Along by the vine-rows green, 

With Esther asleep on her bosom, 
And Rachel her brothers between ; 



Work for Christ. 



'Mong the people who hung on His teaching, 
Or waited His touch and His word ; 

Through the row of proud Pharisees listening, — 
She pressed to the feet of the Lord. 

" Now, why shouldst thou hinder the Master," 
Said Peter, " with children like these? 
Seest not how, from morning till evening, 
He teacheth, and healeth disease?" 

Then Christ said, " Forbid not the children ; 

Permit them to come unto me : " 
And He took in His arms little Esther, 

And Rachel He set on His knee. 

And the heavy heart of the mother 

Was lifted all earth-care above, 
As He laid His hands on the brothers, 

And blest them with tenderest love ; 

As He said of the babes in His bosom, 
" Of such are the kingdom of heaven : " 

And strength for all duty and trial, 
That hour to her spirit were given. 

Elim. 



i6o 



Work for Christ, 



certainly as your Master's love is in von, 
His work will be upon you, His objects 
will be yours, and also His divine burden. 
And sometimes that burden will be heavy, If 
your heart grows pure, it will just so far be 
shocked and revoked by the wrath and wrong 
of evil-doers. As certainly as you have feel- 
ing, you will have the pains of feeling. Ex- 
pect to have your part, then, with Jesus in His 
Gethsemane. Come in freely hither : tarry ye 
here and watch. Out of His agony learn how 
to bear an enemy, what to do for your enemies 
and God's. If your intercessions sometimes 
turn to groans ; if you sometimes wonder, that, 
being a Christian, you are yet so heavily 3 pain- 
fully burdened, almost crushed with concern 
for such as you are trying to save. — let your 
comfort be. that so you indeed drink your Mas- 
ter's cup. If your love is repelled with scorn, 
and your good work baffled, and vour heart 
grows heavy under sorrow and discourage- 
ment, ready to sink under its load, — come 



Work for Christ. 



161 



hither, and pray with Jesus in His sweat of 
blood, "Let this cup pass from me." If wick- 
edness grows hot in malice round you, if con- 
spiracy and violence array themselves against 
you, go apart into this Gethsemane of your 
Lord's troubles, and be sure that some good 
angel shall be sent to strengthen you. Is not 
Christ's heart wringing for you more bitterly 
than yours for itself, " Tarry ye here, and 
watch"? If some demon of impatience whispers, 
here or there, "Why not give it up?" behold 
the agonizing obedience of Christ, faithful unto 
death, and say with Him, "Not as I will, but 
as Thou wilt." Look for no mere holiday of 
frames, but for such kind of joy as a heart may 
yield that is many times broken by sacrifice. 
Behold your Master prostrate on the ground ; 
and, by His agony and bloody sweat, be girded 
for a passion of your own. Consent with 
Christ to suffer; and when, having gotten His 
victory, He says, "Rise, let us be going," go, 
not faltering, even though He lead you to the 

Cl*OSS. H . BUSHNEIX. 



162 



Work for Christ. 



T" HE seed must die before the corn appears 

Out of the ground, in blade and fruitful ears. 

Low have these ears before the sickle lain, 
Ere thou canst treasure up the golden grain. 

The grain is crushed before the bread is made, 
And the bread broke ere life to man conveyed. 

Oh be content to die, to be laid low, 
And to be crushed and to be broken so, 

If thou upon God's table mayst be bread, 
Life-giving food for souls an hungered ! 

R. C. Trench. 



pIVE hundred years have passed since Tau- 
ler and his fellows did their simple work, 
and looked for no fruit from it, but the saving 
of one here and there from the nether pit. 
That was enough for which to labor; but, 
without knowing it, they did more than that. 
Their work lives, and will live for ever, though 



Work for Christ. 



in forms from which they would have perhaps 
shrunk had they foreseen them. Let all such, 
therefore, take heart. They may know their 
own weakness ; but they know not the power 
of God in them. They may think, sadly, that 
they are only palliating the outward symptoms 
of social and moral disease ; but God may be 
striking, by some unconscious chance-blow of 
theirs, at a root of evil which they never 
suspected. They may mourn over the failure 
of some seemingly useful plan of their own ; 
but God may be, by their influence, sowing 
the seed of some plan of His own, of which 
they little dream. For every good deed comes 
from God. His is the idea, His the inspira- 
tion, and His its fulfilment in time ; and there- 
fore no good deed but lives and grows with the 
everlasting life of God Himself. And as the 
acorn, because God has given it "a forming 
form " and life after its kind, bears within it not 
only the builder oak, but shade for many a 
herd, food for countless animals, and at last 
the gallant ship itself, and the materials for 



164 



Work for Christ. 



every use to which nature or art can put it and 
its descendants after it, throughout all time ; so 
does every good deed contain within itself end- 
less and unexpected possibilities of other good, 
which may and will grow and multiply for ever, 
in the genial light of Him whose eternal Mind 
conceived it, and whose eternal Spirit will ever 
quicken it, with that Life of which He is the 
Giver and the Lord. 

KlNGSLEY. 



"\T 7HEN apple blossoms in the spring 
* * Began their fragrant leaves to shed, 

And robins twittered on the wing, 
" 'Tis time to sow my seeds," I said. 

So, patiently, with care and pains, 
My nurslings under ground I spread : 
"The early and the latter rains 

Will reach them where they lie," I said, 

"The sun will nurse them, and the dew; 
The sweet winds woo them overhead ; 
No care of mine shall coax them through 
This black, unsightly mould," I said. 



Work for Christ. 



165 



And so I left them, day by day, 

To gentle household duties wed ; 
I went in quiet on my way : 

" God will take care of them," I said. 

And now *t is autumn : rich and bright 

My garden blooms, — blue, white, and red, — 

A loyal show, a regal sight : 
And all is even as I said. 

My faithless heart, the lesson heed ; 

No longer walk disquieted : 
Where the great Sower sows the seed, 

All shall be even as He said. 

'Tis spring-time yet : behold the years 

Roll grandly in, God overhead, 
When thou shalt say, " O bootless fears ! 

Lo ! all is even as He said." 

Caroline A. Mason. 



^ J^HE labors of believers are so intermingled, 
that it is impossible to tell who is the 
properly successful one. Indeed, success does 
not belong to the solitary. The spinner of the 



166 Work for Christ. 



flax does not despair because she only forms 
thread. Another must lay the warp and ply 
the loom, before the cloth can be perfected. 
Yet the thread must be spun first. Who makes 
the cloth? The spinner or the weaver? Both. 
Just so it is in the Church of God. Had Abra- 
ham and the prophets no part in bringing about 
the kingdom of God, because they entered 
their rest, and their labors followed them, Ion a- 
before the fulness of time? Had Eunice and 
Lois, who taught Timotlry the Scriptures when 
a little child at the knee, no share in the suc- 
cess of his ministry? Will the martyrs, who 
sowed the seed of the Church in their blood, 
have no part in the final harvest? The mighty 
reformers, who battered down the walls of 
tyrant error about the ears of wicked priests ; 
the studious scholars, who translated the Scrip- 
tures into the common tongue : the contempla- 
tive theologians, who, like busy bees, stored, 
in past centuries, the hives of the Church with 
honey, upon which we now feed, and in the 
strength of which we now work, — the Fla- 



Work for Christ. 



167 



vels, the Howes, the Baxters, the Barrows, the 
Leightons, — have they no share in the glorious 
revivals and the missionary zeal of the nine- 
teenth century? Nay, we do not doubt this. 
So it may be with us. One may plant, another 
may water, and one before them both may have 
broken up the fallow ground, and yet another 
may reap the harvest : but is the success only 
his who fills his bosom with the sheaves? The 
pious parent who teaches her lisping babe; 
they who sit unweariedly, Sabbath after Sab- 
bath, like Charity in Raphael's picture, with 
their Sunday-school children around them; 
the conscientious instructor, who seeks to infuse 
wisdom from above, with the maxims of daily 
life, into the hearts of his charge : the tract dis- 
tributor, who goes forth scattering leaves from 
the tree of life on the winds of God's provi- 
dence ; the bed-ridden saint, who can only 
pray and suffer and hope, — all are contributing 
to the great work, as well as he who bids the 
penitent welcome to the supper of the Lord, 
or the angel who bears upward, on rejoicing 



icS 



Work for Christ. 



wings, the immortal conqueror over death and 
sin. 

We may not see immediate success : there 
is ordinarily some space between the seed-time 
and the harvest. But the day is coming when 
the work of the Lord shall be complete : and 
everv faithful servant be recognized by his 
Master, and his labors follow him. He that 
soweth, and he that water eth, and he that reap- 
eth. shall rejoice together. They are all one, 
and every man shall receive his own reward 
according to his own labor : and oh, beloved 
Master, to see Thee on Thy throne, worshipped 
bv the countless shining ones of Thy love, re- 
deemed from sin and sorrow and death ; yes, 
to be one of those who shall sing hosannas at 
Thy feet, will be reward enough ! 

G. W. Bethune. 



Work for Christ. 



169 



OCORN not the slightest word or deed, 
^ Nor deem it void of power : 
There's fruit in each wind-wafted seed, 

Waiting its natal hour. 
A whispered word may touch the heart, 

And call it back to life ; 
A look of love bid sin depart, 

And still unholy strife. 

No act falls fruitless : none can tell 

How vast its power may be, 
Nor what results enfolded dwell 

Within it silently. 
Work, and despair not ; give thy mite, 

Nor care how small it be : 
God is with all that serve the right, — 

The holy, true, and free. 



ff "Y"ET have I left me seven thousand in 
Israel who have not bowed the knee to 
Baal." So then, Elijah's life had been no 
failure after all. Seven thousand at least in 




170 



Israel had been braced and encouraged by his 
example, and silently blessed him perhaps for 
the courage which they felt. In God's world, 
for those that are in earnest, there is no failure. 
No work truly done, no word earnestly spoken, 
no sacrifice freely made, was ever made in 
vain. Never did the cup of cold water, given 
for Christ's sake, lose its reward. 

If ever failure seemed to rest on a noble life, 
it was when the Son of Man, deserted by His 
friends, heard the cry which proclaimed that 
the Pharisees had successfully drawn the net 
round their Divine Victim. Yet, from that very 
hour of defeat and death, there went forth the 
world's life ; from that very moment of ap- 
parent failure, there proceeded forth into the 
ages the spirit of the conquering Cross. 

Distinguish, therefore, between the real and 
the apparent. Elijah's apparent success was 
in the shouts of Mount Carmel. His real 
success was in the unostentatious, unsurmised 
obedience of the seven thousand who had taken 
his God for their God. 



Work for Christ. 



A lesson for all, — for teachers who lay their 
heads down at night, sickening over their 
thankless task. Remember the power of in- 
direct influences : those which distil from a life ; 
not from a sudden, brilliant effort. The former 
never fail; the latter, often. There is good 
done of which we can never predicate the when 
or where. Not in the flushing of a pupil's 
cheek, or the glistening of an attentive eye ; 
not in the shining results of an examination, — 
does your real success lie. It lies in that in- 
visible influence on character, which He alone 
can read who counted the seven thousand 
nameless ones in Israel. 

F. W. Robertson. 



"VTE have not sowed in vain ! 

Though the heavens seem as brass ; 
And, piercing the crust of the burning plain, 
Ye scan not a blade of grass. 

Yet there is life within, 
And waters of life on high : 



172 



Work for Chi'ist. 



One morn ye shall wake, and the spring's soft green 
O'er the moistened fields shall lie. 

Tears in the dull, cold eye, 
Light on the darkened brow, 
The smile of peace, or the prayerful sigh, 
Where the mocking smile sits now. 

Went ye not forth with prayer ? 
Then ye went not forth in vain : 
" The Sower, the Son of Man," was there, 
And His was that precious grain. 

Ye may not see the bud, — 
The first sweet sign of spring ; 
The first slow drops of the quickening shower, 
On the dry, hard ground that ring. 

But the harvest home ye'll keep. 
The summer of life ye'll share, 
When they that sow and they that reap 
Rejoice together there. 

Author of " The Three Wakings" 



THE UNFAILING FRIEND. 



I AM WITH YOU ALWAY, EVEN UNTO THE END OF THE WORLD. 

Matt, xxviii. 20. 



THE UNFAILING FRIEND. 



♦ 



J^EEPER than the love of home, deeper 
than the love of kindred, deeper than the 
love of rest and recreation, deeper than the love 
of life, is the love of Jesus. When they were 
probing among his shattered ribs for the fatal 
bullet, the French veteran exclaimed, "A little 
deeper, and you will find the emperor." The 
deepest affection in a believing soul is the love 
of its Saviour. And so, when other spells 
have lost their magic ; when no name of old 
endearment, no voice of tenderness, can dis- 
perse the lethargy of dissolution, — the name 
that is above every name, pronounced by one 



176 The Unfailing Friend. 

who knows it, will kindle its last animation in 
the eye of death. And when other persuasives 
have lost their power; when other loves no 
longer constrain the Christian ; when the love 
of country no longer constrains his patriotism, 
nor the love of brethren his philanthropy, nor 
the love of home his fatherly affection, — the 
love of Christ will still constrain his loyalty. 
There is a love to Jesus which nothing can 
destroy. 

If you love the Lord Jesus, you have every 
thing. Union to Jesus is salvation. Love to 
Jesus is religion. Love to the Lord Jesus is 
essential and vital Christianity. It is the main- 
spring of the life of God in the soul of man. 
It is the all-inclusive germ which involves with- 
in it every other grace. Love to Christ is the 
best incentive to action, the best antidote to 
idolatry. It adorns the labors which it ani- 
mates, and hallows the friendships which it 
overshadows. Its operation is most marvellous : 
for, when there is enough of it, it makes the 
timid bold and the slothful diligent. It puts 



The Unfailing Friend. 177 

eloquence into the stammering tongue, and 
energy into the withered arm, and ingenuity 
into the dull, lethargic brain. It takes posses- 
sion of the soul; and a joyous lustre beams 
in languid eyes, and wings of new obedience 
sprout from lazy, leaden feet. Love to Christ 
is the soul's true heroism, which courts gigantic 
feats, which selects the heaviest loads and the 
hardest toils, which glories in tribulations, and 
hugs reproaches, and smiles at death till the 
king of terrors smiles again. It is the aliment 
which feeds assurance, the opiate which lulls 
suspicion, the oblivious draught which scatters 
misery and remembers poverty no more. Love 
to Jesus is the beauty of the believing soul : it 
is the elasticity of the willing steps, and the 
brightness of the glowing countenance. If you 
would be a happy, a holy, and a useful Chris- 
tian, you must be an eminently Christ-loving 
disciple. If you have no love to Jesus at all, 
then you are none of His. But if you have a 
little love, — ever so little, — a little drop, al- 
most frozen in the coldness of your icy heart, 

12 



178 The Unfailing Friend. 



oh seek more ! Look to Jesus, and cry for the 
Spirit till you find your love increasing; till 
you find it drowning besetting sins ; till you 
find it drowning guilty fears, — rising till it 
touch that index, and open your closed lips ; 
rising, till every nook and cranny of the soul 
is filled with it, and all the actions of life and 
relations of earth are pervaded by it ; rising, 
till it swell up to the brim, and, like the Apos- 
tle's love, rush over in a full assurance, "Yes : 
I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, 
nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor 
things present, nor things to come, nor height, 
nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be 
able to separate us from the love of God which 
is in Christ Jesus our Lord." 

Hamilton. 



* PHE light of love is round His feet, 

His paths are never dim ; 
And He comes nigh to us, when we 
Dare not come nigh to Him. 



i79 



Let us be simple with Him then ; 

Not backward, stiff, or cold, 
As though our Bethlehem could be 

What Sinai was of old. 

His love of us may teach us how 

To love Him in return : 
Love cannot help but grow more free, 

The more its transports burn. 

The solemn face, the downcast eye, 
The words constrained and cold, — 

These are the homage, poor at best, 
Of those outside the fold. 

Oh that they knew what Jesus was, 

And what untold abyss 
Lies in love's simple forwardness, 

Of more than earthly bliss ! 

Faber. 



* J KNOW that my Redeemer liveth." Here 
there is one word full of meaning, from 
which we collect the truth of sympathy : it is 
that little word of appropriation, "My" Re- 



180 The Unfailing Friend. 



deemer. Power is shown by God's attentions 
to the vast; Sympathy, by His condescen- 
sion to the small. It is not the thought of 
heaven's sympathy by which we are impressed, 
when we gaze through the telescope on the 
mighty world of space, and gain an idea of 
what is meant by infinite. Majesty and power 
are there ; but the very vastness excludes the 
thought of sympathy. It is when wq look into 
the world of insignificance, which the micro- 
scope reveals, and find that God has gorgeously 
painted the atoms of creation, and exquisitely 
furnished forth all that belongs to minutest life, 
that we feel that God sympathizes and individ- 
ualizes. When we are told that God is the 
Redeemer of the world, we know that love 
dwells in the bosom of the Most High ; but, if 
we want to know that God feels for us individ- 
ually and separately, we must learn by heart 
this syllable of endearment, "My Redeemer." 
Child of God, if you would have your thought 
of God something beyond a cold feeling of His 
presence, let faith appropriate Christ. You 



The Unfailing Friend. 181 

are as much the object of God's solicitude as if 
none lived but yourself. He has counted the 
hairs of your head. In Old-Testament lan- 
guage, K He has put your tears into His bottle. " 
He has numbered your sighs and your smiles. 
He has interpreted the desires for which you 
have not found a name nor an utterance your- 
self. If you have not learned to say My Re- 
deemer, then, just so far as there is any thing 
tender or affectionate in your disposition, you 
will tread the path of your pilgrimage with a 
darkened and a lonely heart ; and, when the 
day of trouble comes, there will be none of that 
triumphant elasticity which enabled Job to look 
down, as from a rock, upon the surges which 
were curling their crests of fury at his feet, 
but could only reach his bosom with their 
spent spray. 

F. W. Robertson. 



1 82 The Unfailing Friend. 



TT^HEN, across the heart, deep waves of sorrow 

Break, as on a dry and barren shore ; 
When hope glistens with no bright to-morrow, 
And the storm seems sweeping evermore ; 

When the cup of every earthly gladness 
Bears no taste of the life-giving stream ; 

And high hopes, as though to mock our sadness, 
Fade and die as in some fitful dream, — 

Who shall hush the weary spirit's chiding? 

Who the aching void within shall fill? 
Who shall whisper of a peace abiding, 

And each surging billow calmly still? 

Only He whose wounded heart was broken 
With the bitter cross and thorny crown ; 

Whose dear love glad words of joy had spoken ; 
Who His life for us laid meekly down. 

Blessed Healer, all our burdens lighten ; 

Give us peace, Thine own sweet peace, we pray ; 
Keep us near Thee till the morn shall brighten, 

And all mists and shadows flee away. 

Ca?iterbury Hymnal, 



The Unfailing Friend. 183 



^J^HE number of objects our hearts can hold, 
or our arms embrace, or our eyes watch, 
or our fortunes enrich, or our bounty pension, 
is limited, confined within a narrow range ; is 
small at the largest, and few at the most. It 
is not so with Him who is mighty to save, 
abundant in goodness and truth. The supplies 
of His grace and mercy are unexhausted and 
exhaustless. Their type shines in that sun, 
which for six thousand years has shed its light 
on seas and continents, on crowded cities and 
lonely solitudes, on burning deserts and fields 
of ice, on palaces and cottages, on ragged 
beggars and sceptred kings, on all countries 
and classes of men; and, with fires fed we 
know not how, shines to-day as bright as ever, 
his eye not dim, nor his natural strength abated. 
And as this is but an image, and a faint image, 
of God, well may His servant assure us, there 
shall be no want to them that fear Him. None, 
neither for the body nor the soul ; neither for 
time nor eternity. Let us come boldly to the 



184 The Unfailing Friend. 



throne of grace. We cannot go to Him too 
often, nor ask of Him too much. We have no 
sin, but He has a pardon for it; no sore, but 
He has a salve for it; no weakness, but He 
has strength for it; no cankering care, but 
He has relief for it ; no grievous sorrow, but 
He has comfort for it; no bleeding heart- 
wound, but He has balm to soothe, and a 
bandage to bind it up. It is impossible for us 
to expect too much from His generosity, or 
trust too implicitly to the bounties of His provi- 
dence and the aids of His Spirit. It is equally 
easy for God to supply our greatest as our 
smallest wants, to carry our heaviest as our 
lightest burden ; just as it is as easy for the 
great ocean to bear on her bosom a ship of war 
with all its guns and crew aboard, as a fisher- 
man's boat, or the tiniest craft that floats, 
falling and rising on her swell. In the most 
desperate cases of sinners, and in the darkest 
circumstances of saints, "when all power is 
gone," and there seems no outget or deliver- 
ance, God is mighty to save. Confident in 



The Unfailing Friend. 185 



His resources, He says, "Is anything too hard 
for me? Prove me herewith, if I will not open 
the windows of heaven, and pour you out a 
blessing till there is no room to contain. Who 
is he that feareth the Lord and obeyeth the 
voice of His servant, that walketh in darkness 
and hath no light? let him trust in the name 
of the Lord, and stay himself on his God." 

Guthrie. 



*\ T 7E have no tears Thou wilt not dry ; 

▼ V \\Tj3 have no wounds Thou wilt not heal ; 
No sorrows pierce our human hearts, 
That Thou, dear Saviour, dost not feel. 

Thy pity like the dew distils ; 

And Thy compassion, like the light, 
Our every morning overfills, 

And crowns with stars our every night. 

Let not the world's rude conflict drown 

The charmed music of Thy voice, 
That calls all weary ones to rest, 

And bids all mourning souls rejoice. 

II . M. Kimball. 



lS6 The Unfailing Friend. 



* I ^IIY thoughts are good, and Thou art kind, 

E'en when we think it not : 
How many an anxious, faithless mind 

Sits grieving o'er its lot ; 
And frets and pines by day and night, 
As God had lost it out of si^ht, 

And all its wants forgot ! 

Ah, no ! God ne'er forgets His own ; 

His heart is far too true : 
He ever seeks their good alone, 

His love is daily new ; 
And though thou deem that things £0 ill, 
Yet He is just and holy still 

In all things He can do. 

The Lord is ever close and near 

To those who keep His word ; 
Whene'er they cry to Him in fear, 

Their prayer is surely heard. 
He knoweth well who loves Him well ; 
His love shall yet their clouds dispel, 

And grant the hope deferred. 

Paul Gerhardt. 



The Unfailing Friend. 187 



^^HRIST was visibly one of us ; and we see, 
in all his demonstrations, that He is at- 
tentive to every personal want, woe, cry of the 
world. When a lone woman came up in a 
crowd, to steal, as it were, some healing power 
out of His person or out of the hem of His gar- 
ment, He would not let her off in that imper- 
sonal, unrecognizing way : He compelled her 
to show herself and to confess her name, and 
sent her away with His personal blessing. He 
pours out everywhere a particular sympathy 
on every particular child of sorrow ; He even 
hunts up the youth He has before healed of his 
blindness, and opens to him, persecuted as he 
is for being healed, the secrets of his glorious 
Messiahship. He has tasted death, not for all 
men only, but for every man. We even dare 
to say, For me, who loved me and gave Himself 
for me. Nay, He goes even further than this 
Himself, calling us friends, and claiming that 
dear relationship with us ; friends, because He 
is on the private footing of friendship and per- 



i88 



The Unfailing Friend. 



sonal confidence. "The servant knoweth not 
what his Lord doeth ; but I have called you 
friends." 

To be a disciple is to have the revelation of 
Christ, and the secret witness of His love, in the 
soul. It implies a most intimate and closely 
reciprocal state. According to the representa- 
tion of the parable, the Holy Shepherd knows 
His own sheep with a particular knowledge, 
and calleth them by name; while they, oh 
their part, know His voice, and follow. "A 
stranger will they not follow, but flee from him ; 
for they know not the voice of strangers." 
And He also says Himself, " I am the good 
Shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known 
of mine." Oh ! this deep and blessed knowl- 
edge, — the knowledge of Christ, — to be in 
the secret witness of His love, to be in His 
guidance, to be strong in His support, to be 
led into the mind of God by Him, and have 
our prayers shaped by His inward teaching ; 
so to be set in God's everlasting counsel, and 
be filled with the testimony that we please 



The Unfailing Friend. 189 

Him: this, all this, it is to know Christ's 
voice. 

What can fill us with a loftier inspiration, or 
lift us into a more sublime and blessed con- 
. fidence, than this,— the fact that Christ, the 
Eternal Shepherd, has a personal recognition 
of us, leading us on, by name, and calling us to 
follow? No matter whether He call us into 
ways of gain or of suffering, of honor or of 
scorn, it is all one, with such a leader before 
us. Nay, if we go down to sound the depths 
of sorrow, and ennoble the pains of sacrifice, 
and perfume the grave of ignominy, what are 
these but a more inspiring and more Godlike 
call, since He is now our leader even here. 
Here is our misery,— that we think to go above 
Christ, and find some cheaper way ; when, if we 
could truly descend to His level of sacrifice, and 
take His cross to follow, we should be raised 
in feeling and power, ennobled in impulse, 
glorified with Him in His joy. The secret of 
all our dryness, the root of all our weakness, 
our want of fruit and progress, our dearth and 



I go The Unfailing Friend. 

desolation, is, that we cannot follow Christ. 
We cannot believe that He has any particular 
care of us, or personal interest in our life ; and 
then, falling away at that point from His lead, 
we drop into ourselves to do a few casual works 
of duty, in which neither He nor others are 
greatly blessed. God forbid that we sacrifice 
our peace so cheaply ! Let us hear the Shep- 
herd's voice; and, as He knows us in our sin, 
so let us go after Him in His sacrifice. Let 
us claim that inspiration, that ennobled confi- 
dence, that comes of being truly with Him. 
Folded thus in His personal care, and led by 
the calling of His voice, for which we always 
listen, let us take His promise, and follow ; go- 
ing in and out, and finding pasture. 

H. BUSHXELL. 



The Unfailing Friend. 191 



TN Heavenly Love abiding, 

No change my heart shall fear ; 
And safe is such confiding, 

For nothing changes here. 
The storm may roar without me, 

My heart may low be laid ; 
But God is round about me, 

And can I be dismayed ? 

Wherever He may guide me, 

No want shall turn me back ; 
My Shepherd is beside me, 

And nothing can I lack. 
His wisdom ever waketh, 

His sight is never dim ; 
He knows the way He taketh, 

And I will walk with Him. 

Green pastures are before me, 

Which yet I have not seen ; 
Bright skies will soon be o'er me, 

Where the dark clouds have been. 
My hope I cannot measure, 

My path to life is free ; 
My Saviour has my treasure, 

And He will walk with me. 

A. L. Waring. 



J9 2 The Unfailing Friend. 



^J^HE Christian has made the love and favor 
of God the portion of his choice. His 
treasures and his hopes are infinitely above 
earth and beyond time. God the Creator, the 
Disposer of all, is His Father and Friend, by 
faith in Jesus Christ. From Him, as the only 
source, he looks for happiness. He delights in 
the mortal objects of his affections, pours out 
no scanty tide of tenderness to kindred and 
friends, enjoys gratefully the comforts and real 
pleasures of life, and loves to have the con- 
fidence and esteem of those whose confidence 
and esteem are worth the having ; but he does 
not regard these as original, essential good. 
They are the streams; God is the fountain: 
and all their faculty to bless is drawn from His 
blessing. If the Christian love them well, he 
loves God more. He neither trusts in them 
nor relies upon them, but in Him and upon 
Him from whom they came, and who, in equal 
goodness, may take them away. Strip him 
naked of all the world holds dear or precious, 



The Unfailing Friend. 193 



and you have not touched his true wealth. He 
has yet God in his heart. God, the good, the 
merciful, the omniscient, the inexhaustible, is 
still his. r He dwelleth in the secret place of 
the Most High ; he abideth under the shadow 
of the Almighty." 

Is his spirit made to suffer by the death or 
unkindness of those he loves? He turns the 
more earnestly to Him who never dies, and 
" sticketh closer than a brother ; * and " the 
love of God is shed abroad in His heart through 
the Holy Ghost which is given him." Is he 
poor? He sets his hopes more firmly on things 
above, where there is treasure laid up for him ; 
and, while he remains below, his bread and 
his water is sure. Is he rich? He bows him- 
self to God as ff poor and needy," richest in 
the thought that " the Lord thinketh upon him." 
Is he despised of men, like his Master? or has 
calumny done his good name wrong? He has 
a safe refuge in his pardoning and approving 
God. He has an honor through Christ, which 
the world cannot take from Him, — a lofty con- 

13 



194 Unfailing Friend. 



sciousness of future vindication, which lifts him 
above its censure and injustice, and carries 
him forward to that day when God shall crown 
him with His own hand, and robe him in eter- 
nal righteousness. He has, indeed, an immor- 
tality — an actual, conscious immortality — of 
reward and glory through grace, which he will 
know and feel and luxuriate in ; an immortali- 
ty death cannot mock ; an immortality of God's 
approbation, — of fame, living fame among the 
countless worlds of God's holy servants. Where 
are they, — the army of martyrs, who soaked 
the sand of the Roman circus with their blood? 
Who fed the fires of Smithfield with their life? 
Whose bones whitened the valleys of Pied- 
mont, the marshes of the Low Countries, or 
the heath-covered hills of Scotland? No pious 
hand gathered their ashes. No monumental 
marble records their names and their con- 
stancy. The world has forgotten them. It 
never knew them. But were they unknown? 
Did they perish? Are they forgotten? Oh 
for one moment of that light which shone upon 



The Unfailing Friend. 



*95 



the dying Stephen, and we should see them 

close around the throne of the Lamb that was 

slain for them, and for whom they died, radiant 

with the beauty of blessedness incorruptible, 

the most noble hosts of the sons of God ! 

G. W. Bethune. 



OH, what a load of struggle and distress 
Falls off before the Cross ! The feverish care, 
The wish that we were other than we are, 
The sick regrets, the yearnings numberless ; 
The thought, " This might have been,'' so apt to 
press 

On the reluctant soul ; even past despair, 
Past sin itself, — all, all is turned to fair, 
Ay, to a scheme of ordered happiness, 
So soon as we love God, or rather know 
That God loves us. Accepting the great pledge 
Of His concern for all our wants and woe, 
We cease to tremble upon danger's edge, 
While varying troubles form and burst anew, 
Safe in a Father's arms we smile as infants do. 

Chauncy Hare Towxsend. 



196 



The Unfailing Friend. 



JT is only by daily walking with Jesus 

looking ever to Him for grace and strength, 
leaning ever on His arm, and relying ever 
on His aid, — that we can hope to do what is 
right or well-pleasing in the sight of God, or 
to have in our own hearts K peace and joy in 
the Holy Ghost." — M Whatsoever ye do in word 
or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus.' 5 
But oh, how comforting, how animating the 
thought, that, in the exercise of a living faith, 
we may have the Saviour ever with us, — vea, 
abiding in our hearts, nearer, closer to us than 
the dearest earthly friend : that thus we may 
see Him in our joys and sorrows, our duties 
and trials, in the means of grace and in his 
living word ; that we may at any moment lift 
up the burdened heart to Him, and find relief 
and solace; that we may bring to Him our 
crosses and temptations, our cares and anxie- 
ties, and feel assured that he will sympathize 
with us and send relief! 

In all this there is to the Christian an ele- 



The Unfailing Friend. 197 



ment of joy, — true, real, spiritual joy, — a joy 
which supports him in many a heavy trial, 
which enables him to see sunshine where 
others can see nothing but blackness, and 
makes him lose his sorrows when he knows 
that w all things work together for good to 
them that love God, and are the called accord- 
ing to His purpose." He feels that he has 
indeed a Saviour suited to his every want, his 
utmost need, — a Saviour in whom are blended 
every tender trait of character, every loving 
and gentle disposition he can desire as a weak 
and feeble pilgrim, travelling, amidst dangers 
and difficulties and sorrows, to the eternal 
world. He sees in Christ Jesus, his Lord and 
Saviour, a holiness which will assuredly ren- 
der him holy ; a justice which will suffer no 
wrong to be perpetrated, or at least, in the end, 
to triumph ; a strength which can bear all his 
burdens ; a wisdom that can guide him in every 
perplexity ; a patience which his many errors 
and failings will not exhaust ; a tenderness 
which will soothe his heaviest grief ; a kind- 



198 The Unfailing Friend. 



ness which countless blessings have only 
proved and confirmed; a love enduring as 
eternity. 

Able to Save. 



O AVIOUR, I shrink my prayers to bring ; 

My faith is loath to grasp Thy word ; 
And hope is like a wounded bird, 

That scarcely can be made 

To try its broken wings. 

"My child, I know it better fai 
Than thou canst tell me : I have seen 
Thy long day's toil ; I know how keen 

The sufferings of thy life 

Of weary wrestling are. 

Press closer to my wounded side, 
My child. Remember that in me 
All mine are justified and free. 

Thou mayest make thy boast 

In me, the Crucified. 

Not for their faithful, fervent prayers 
Are any saved. For love that burns, 



The Unfailing Friend. 199 



Are none accepted. Each one turns 
From self, and lays his hand 
Upon the Lamb who bears 

The sins of failure, as of guilt, 

Fear not. Whom I, the Lord, doth choose, 

I often scourge ; but never lose 
One poor, weak, wayward lamb, 
For whom my blood was spilt." 



JLJE that overcometh — every victorious soul 
prevailing, by faith and by righteousness, 
in the long and patient battle of life — shall have 
secret satisfactions springing up in his heart, 
known only between himself and his Lord. 
They will not consist in outward applauses, in 
visible successes, in any worldly compensa- 
tions whatever. The chief of them all will be 
the silent assurances of His personal affection, 
who is the purest, highest, holiest. The testi- 
mony of his friendship will be the best reward. 
The token of His favor will be the inestimable 



2 GO 



The Unfailing Friend, 



good. So much light does advancing excel- 
lence always cast on old forms of truth, a 
deeper life ever illuminating even familiar ora- 
cles, that the very name of the Christ shall 
have a new meaning. It shall be a new name. 
It shall have a personal charm and precious- 
ness to each several believer. None shall 
know it as he knoweth it that receiveth it. 

F. D. Huntington. 



J j~OW uniform and majestic the testimony, 
that rises from all the lands and ao>es. of 
faith to this simple truth, — that it is not rules 
of conduct, not systems of ethics, not patterns 
of propriety, not eloquent expositions, that in- 
spire the believing and faithful heart with its 
immortal energy and peace; but the simple, 
secret assurance of being at one widi Jesus, 
and resting in His almighty friendship. Where 
is the fiery furnace deep enough to burn des- 
pair into our souls, if we can see, walking 
with us through the fire, the form of the 



The Unfailing Friend. 201 



Son of God? What, then, is the tribulation, 
or famine, or sword, or nakedness, that shall 
separate us from the love of God in Christ 
Jesus our Lord? The mystery of that unity 
where He who is one with God yet cried, 
"Not as I will, but as Thou wilt," is not for us 
to understand. Yet the prayer of promise, 
"They shall be with me where I am," is for us 
to lay hold of, and breathe again and again, 
when we are aching and alone and troubled. 
So the believers have found. When the bril- 
liant, amiable, and accomplished young Italian 
woman, Olympia Morata, whose learning and 
loveliness graced the splendid epoch of Leo X., 
had become the persecuted victim of Romish 
tyranny, for honoring Christ above a polluted 
priesthood, then poverty, sickness, desolation, 
exile, tried their worst upon her constancy. 
After she, who had been the delicate nursling 
of courts and letters, had fled across the stony 
fields of Bavaria, with literally bare and bleed- 
ing feet, the strength of the frail body failing, 
she bent under the roughness of fortune, and 



202 



The Unfailing Friend. 



quietly lay down to die. To one of her noble 
friends in Italy she wrote, " Let the word of 
God be the rule of thy life, the lamp upon thy 
path, and thou wilt not stumble/ 5 As the pur- 
ple flood of life ebbed in her thin, white frame, 
she said, "I desire to die, because I know the 
secret of death. The cunning mechanism is 
near to its dissolution. I desire to die, that I 
may be with Jesus Christ, and hnd in Him 
eternal life. Do not be disturbed at my death, 
for I shall conquer in the end : I desire to de- 
part, and be with Christ. 35 With Christ! So, 
the world over, and through all ages, in the 
first century or the last, the true heart of faith 
answers, in its final and glorified hour, to the 
prayer of Jesus, "With me, where I am,'' 

F. D, Huntington. 



/^ALM lay the city in its double sleep, 

Beneath the Paschal moon's cold, silvery light, 
That flung broad shadows o'er the rugged steep 
Of Olivet that night. 



The Unfailing Friend. 203 



But soon the calm was broken, and the sound 
Of strains all sweet and plaintive filled the air ; 
And deep-toned voices, echoing all around, 
Made music everywhere. 

The Holy Rite is o'er ; the Blessed Sign 
Is given to cheer us in this earthly strife ; 
The bread is broken, and outpoured the wine, 
Symbol of better Life. 

The bitter cup of wrath before Him lies ; 
And yet, as up the steep they pass along, 
The mighty Victim to the sacrifice, 

They cheer the way with song. 

We ne'er can know such sorrow as that night 
Pierced to the heart the suffering Son of God ; 
And every earthly sadness is but light, 
To that dark path He trod. 

And yet how faint and feeble rise our songs ! 
How oft we linger 'mid the shadows dim, 
Nor give the glory that to Him belongs 
In Eucharistic hymn ! 

Oh for an echo of that chant of praise ! 
Oh for a voice to sing His mighty love ! 



204 



The Unfailing Friend, 



Oh for a refrain of the hymns they raise 
In the bright Home above ! 

Touch Thou our wayward hearts, and let them be 
In stronger faith to Thy glad service given ; 
Till, o'er the margin of Time's surging sea, 
We sing the song of Heaven. 

Lyra Anglicana. 



r^HRIST is so related now, to the souls of 
them that receive Him, that He is present 
with them in all places, at all times, bearing 
witness with their spirits, in guidance and holy 
society ; a friend, a consoler, a glorious illumi- 
nator, all that He would or could be, if we had 
Him, each to himself, in outward company. 
Yes : and He is more than this ; for, if we sim- 
ply had Him in such outward company, the 
contrast perceived would be even mortifying 
and oppressive. But now, as He comes up from 
within, through our personal consciousness it- 
self, we are raised in dignity, and have Him as 
the sense of a new T and nobler self unfolded in 



The Unfailing Friend. 205 

us. Oh, what a footing is this for a mortal crea- 
ture to occupy! — an open relationship with 
Christ and God, in which it shall receive just 
all which it wants, being consciously girded 
with strength for whatever it has to do, — 
patience for suffering, wisdom for guidance. 
His very nature is penetrated by a higher na- 
ture ; and, being spirit to Spirit, he moves in the 
liberty of that superior impulse and advisement. 
His relationship to Christ is that of the branch 
to the vine ; and the presence that he has with 
Christ is immediate, vital, and, if he will suffer 
it, perpetual. Its whole Gospel in one view 
it has in the promise, "Lo! I am with you 
always, even to the end of the world.' 5 

H. BUSHNELL, 



206 The Unfailing Friend. 



f \ THOU pure light of souls that love, 

True joy of every human breast, 
Sower of life's immortal seed, 

Our Saviour and Redeemer blest ! — 

Be Thou our guide, be Thou our goal, 
Be Thou our pathway to the skies ; 

Our joy, when sorrow fills the soul ; 
In death, our everlasting prize. 

Breviary. 



A ND speakest thou thus? 

- Despairing of the sun that sets to thee, 
And of the earthly love that wanes to thee, 
And of the heaven that lieth far from thee? 
Peace, peace, fond fool ! One draweth near thy 
door 

Whose footsteps leave no print across the snow ; 
Thy sun has risen with comfort in his face, — 
The smile of heaven, to warm thy frozen heart, 
And bless with saintly hand. What ! is it long 
To wait, and far to go? Thou shalt not go : 
Behold ! across the snow to thee He comes ; 



The Unfailing Friend. 



207 



Thy heaven descends, and is it long to wait? 
Thou shalt not wait: " This night, this night," rift 
saith, 

" I stand at the door, and knock." 

What shall be 
If thou wilt answer? He will smile on thee,— 
One smile of His shall be enough to heal 
The wound of man's neglect; and He will sigh, 
Pitying the trouble which that sigh shall cure ; 
And He will speak, — speak in the desolate night, 
In the dark night, " For me a thorny crown 
Men wove, and nails were driven in my hands 
And feet ; there was an earthquake, and I died ; 
I died, and am alive for evermore. 

I died for thee : for thee I am alive, 
And my humanity doth ractarn for thee : 
For thou art mine ; and all thy little ones, — 
They, too, are mine, are mine. Behold ! the house 
Is dark ; but there is brightness where the sons 
Of God are singing, and, behold ! the heart 
Is troubled : yet the nations walk in white ; 
They have forgotten how to weep ; and thou 
Shalt also come, and I will foster thee 
And satisfy thy soul ; and thou shalt warm 



2o8 The Unfailing Friend. 



Thy trembling life beneath the smile of God. 
A little while, — it is a little while, — 
A little while, and I will comfort thee : 
I go away, but I will come again." 

Jean Ingelow. 



THE HEAVENLY HOME. 



" In my Father's house are many mansions : if it were not so, 

I WOULD HAVE TOLD YOU. I GO TO PREPARE A PLACE FOR YOU." — 

John adv. 2. 



THE HEAVENLY HOME. 



"T AM the way," says Christ; and whither, 
but to heaven? "Follow me," says Christ ; 
and whither, but to heaven? "I will that 
where I am, there ye may be also ; " and where 
is that but heaven? Does He not thus cry to 
us, "Come up hither?" Oh, may it be the 
answer of our hearts, "Lord, we come; for, 
blessed be thy name ! whither thou hast gone 
and where Thou art, we know, and the way 
we know." What was the Redeemer's whole 
appearance on earth, but one earnest, unceas- 
ing, life-long entreaty, that men would turn to 



212 The Heavenly Home. 

God ? It was all that men might " wash their 
robes and make them white in His blood, and 
therefore appear before the throne " on high ; 
it was all for this that He lay in the manger at 
Bethlehem ; it was all for this He went about 
doing good ; it was for this He preached His 
every sermon, and wrought His every miracle, 
and withstood His every temptation, and bore 
His every pang of pain. It was all for this 
that the sun was darkened, and the rocks were 
rent, and the dead came back, and all nature 
shuddered at the sufferings of the expiring Son 
of God. 

There are few who have lived long in this 
world, and have not stood by the bed of the 
dying ; and let us hope that there are many 
who have seen a Christian friend or brother de- 
part, — who have looked on such a one as life, 
but not love, ebbed away, — as the eye of sense 
grew dim, but that of faith waxed brighter and 
brighter. Have you heard such a one, in bid- 
ding you farewell, whisper that it was not for 
ever? have you heard such a one tell you so to 



The Heavenly Home, 



213 



live, as that death might only remove you to a 
place where there is no dying? And. as you 
felt the pressure of that cold hand, and saw the 
earnest spirit that shone through those glazing 
eyes, have you not resolved and promised, that, 
God helping you, you would? And ever since 
have you not felt, that though death has sealed 
those lips, and that heart is turning back to 
clay, that voice is speaking yet, that heart is 
caring for you vet. that soul is remembering 

ZD w w ; O 

yet the words it last spoke to you? From the 
abode of glory it says, f ' Come up hither." 
The way is steep, the ascent is toilsome: it 
knows it well, for it trod it once ; but it knows 
now what it knew not then, — how bright the 
reward, how pleasant the rest that remaineth, 
after the toil is past. And if we go with inter- 
est to the grave of a much-loved friend, who 
bade us, when dving. sometimes to visit the 
place where he should be laid when dead ; if 
you hold a request like that sacred, — tell me, 
how much more solemnly and earnestly we 
should seek to go where the conscious spirit 



214 



The Heavenly Home. 



lives, than where the senseless body moulders ! 
If day after day sees you come to shed the 
pensive tear of memory over the narrow bed 
where that dear one is sleeping ; if, amid the 
hot whirl of your daily engagements, you find 
a calm impressed as you stand in that still spot 
where no worldly care ever comes, and think 
of the heart which no grief vexes now ; if the 
sound of the world melts into distance and 
fades away on the ear, at that point whence the 
world looks so little ; if the setting sun, as it 
makes the gravestone glow, reminds you of 
evening hours and evening scenes long since 
departed, and the waving grass, through which 
the wind sighs so softly, speaks of that one 
who "faded as a leaf," and left you like "a 
wind that passeth away and cometh not again," 
— oh, how much more should every day see you 
striving up the way which will conduct you 
where the living spirit dwells, and whence it is 
ever calling to you, K Come up hither" ! It was 
the weak fancy of a dying man that bade you 
come to his burying-place ; but it is the per- 



The Heavenly Home. 



215 



petual entreaty of a living seraph that invites 
you to join it there. 

If, treading the upward way, you listen to 
the voices that float around it, till they grow 
familiar to your ear as your mother's voice, and 
sweet like that of your native river ; till the 
habit of attention grows into your soul, and 
their ever-regarded sound always warms and 
cheers, and swells your heart, — oh, what a 
happy meeting that will be, when your sun is 
set and your journey finished ; when the voices 
that called you coming shall welcome you 
come ; when the voices which came sweetly 
from afar, and sounded pleasant even amid the 
world's din, shall be sweeter yet close at hand, 
as they stir the leaves of the tree of life, and 
melt away upon that tranquil sea ; when many 
holy ones and dear ones shall crowd around 
you, and greet you, now grown pure and holy 
as themselves, in accents so familiar and friend- 
ly, that you will feel you are now at last at 
home! And then, more conscious of the soul's 
great worth, and more bent upon the bliss of 



2l6 



The Heavenly Home. 



others, you will add your own to that Great 
Voice which from heaven calls to all on earth, 
and says, "Come up hither." 

Boyd. 



\JO bird-song floated down the hill, 
^ The tangled bank below was still ; 

No rustle from the birchen stem, 
No ripple from the water's hem. 

The dusk of twilight round us grew, 
We felt the falling of the dew ; 

For, from us, ere the day was done, 
The wooded hills shut out the sun. 

But on the river's farther side, 
We saw the hill-tops glorified, — 

A tender glow, exceeding fair, 
A dream of day without its glare. 

With us the damp, the chill, the gloom; 
With them the sunset's rosy bloom ; 



The Heavenly Home. 



217 



While dark, through willowy vistas seen, 
The river rolled in shade between. 

From out the darkness where we trod, 
We gazed upon those hills of God, 

Whose light seemed not of moon or sun. 
We spake not, but our thought was one. 

We paused, as if from that bright shore 
Beckoned our dear ones gone before ; 

And stilled our beating hearts to hear 
The voices lost to mortal ear ! 

Sudden our pathway turned from night ; 
The hills swung open to the light ; 

Through their green gates the sunshine showed, 
A long, slant splendor downward flowed. 

Down glade and glen and bank it rolled ; 
It bridged the shaded stream with gold : 

And, borne on piers of mist, allied 
The shadowy with the sunlit side ! 



2i8 The Heavenly Home. 



" So," prayed we, " when our feet draw near 
The river dark, with mortal fear, 

" And the night cometh chill with dew, 
O Father ! let thy light break through ! 

" So let the hills of doubt divide, 
So bridge with faith the sunless tide ! 

" So let the eyes that fail on earth, 
On thy eternal hills look forth ; 

44 And in thy beckoning angels know 
The dear ones whom we loved below ! " 

J. G. Whittier. 



'J^HE walk through the earthly life is very 
calm and peaceful when one has nothing 
to fear, but every thing to hope; when by 
faith the sting is taken from death, by the fear 
of which countless men are slaves for their 
whole life; when the natural dread of this 
great, wondrous event is swallowed up in the 



The Heavenly Home. 



219 



joyful courage of Christian hope, which sees 
in death only a birth into a more perfect life, 
Those who long for home are already dead in 
the midst of the earthly life. They are familiar 
with the idea from which others flee in terror, 
— that the time will come when their eye, too, 
will grow dim, their heart stand still, their last 
thought sink into the darkness of unconscious- 
ness, that then the coffin and the grave will 
close over their dissolving frame. They are 
dead. They have within them experienced 
and survived death. They know that to them, 
beyond death, life is made sure, in communion 
with Him who says to his disciples, "Because 
I live, ye shall live also." And when from 
their home they shall glance back to the check- 
ered world, there rests upon it a mild, peaceful 
light, which harmonizes all its discords, and 
reveals to them here, even in the works of His 
creation, as in a mirror, the glory of God, 
which they shall one day fully see. Nature 
has to them a livelier radiance, and prophesies 
of its future transfiguration. More grateful 



220 



The Heavenly Home. 



are the forms of those human relations in which 
the penetrating glance of aspiring love to the 
Eternal One, easily discovers the seeds of a 
higher, imperishable development. That pas- 
sionate dependence on the goods of the earthly 
life, that immoderate joy, that rapture in their 
possession, you may not, indeed, expect from 
them. They have become acquainted with 
something better than this world can proffer. 
The calm, blessed consciousness, that they are 
called to something infinitely higher and more 
glorious, constantly accompanies them. But 
are they, therefore, less capable of appreciating 
and enjoying earthly beauties and blessings, 
because, in the view of death and the future 
life, they have found, and ever hold fast, their 
right measure? And how much easier are the 
pains and toils of this perishable life borne, 
when the eye of the soul is directed to its eter- 
nal home ! Oh, then, with the Apostle Paul, 
we hold, "that the sufferings of this present 
time are not worthy to be compared with the 
glory which shall be revealed in us " ! Then 



The Heavenly Home, 



221 



we enjoy, in the midst of affliction and need, a 
holy peace, by the power of living hope, " as 
dying, and behold we live ; as chastened, and 
not killed ; as sorrowful, yet always rejoic- 
ing." 

And whether the great hour comes early or 
late, when the gates of the Father's house 
open, — the hour when the Lord beckons to the 
weary pilgrim to come out of the body, — oh, 
how calm and courageously do we enter, then, 
into the mysterious, silent night of the valley 
of death, leaning on the hand of Him who has 
for our eternal salvation trod this narrow, dark 
path ! As a child upon a perilous way clings 
to its mother, so do we cling closely to Him 
who has taken from death its power through 
His death, and has brought life and immortality 
to light through His resurrection. Only a few 
steps are to be taken in that valley of pain ; 
for only a few moments does our outward 
nature struggle against the dissolving power 
of death. Then it is over. The dark shades 
disappear, and into the enraptured eye beams, 



222 



The Heavenly Home. 



in the mildest, most blessed radiance, the Eter- 
nal Home. Yes, "we are always confident,* 
whether in life or in death. With calm long- 
ing, our glance rests upon the blessed Home 
which lies before us, and life appears to us 
peaceful, and death sweet. The thorns of our 
pilgrim-path no longer wound us, and the en- 
trance to the Father's house is no more narrow 
and fearful. The waste blooms into a garden 
of the Lord, and the dark valley becomes a 
light, lovely path. With refreshing peace with- 
in, praising God with heart and mouth, we 
joyfully walk toward the beloved Home. 



"X TEARER home ! nearer home ! 

^ However dark and lonely 
The path through which we roam, 

This is a journey only ; 
And though we oft, affrighted, 

Shrink back with sigh and moan, 
Our camp-fires still are lighted, 
" A day's march nearer home." 



Muller. 




The Heavenly Home, 



Nearer home ! nearer home ! 

Oh, joy beyond expressing, 
That over thorn and stone 

Our feet are homeward pressing ! 
For, though we leave behind us 

Some buds of hope unblown, 
The sunset still doth find us 

" A day's march nearer home." 

Nearer home ! nearer home ! 

O many-mansioned dwelling ! 
Beneath thy shining dome 

No tides of grief are swelling ; 
And toward thy fadeless glory 

With eager haste we come, 
Repeating earth's brief story, 

" A day's march nearer home." 

Nearer home ! nearer home ! 

Soon, through its open portals, 
The ransomed hosts will come, 

To welcome us immortals. 
Then, be the path before us 

With wrecks or roses strewn, 
Each night we'll sing in chorus, 

" A day's march nearer home." 



224 The Heavenly Home. 



ff ^^H what joy!" exclaimed Dr. Gordon. 

"People have said that death is fright- 
ful : I look on it with pleasure. I see no mon- 
sters around me. Death ! — I see no death at 
my bedside : it is that benign Saviour, w r aiting 
to take me. I could not have a fear. This is 
not the testimony of one who has nothing to 
live for. I am in the prime of life, with com- 
forts and friends around me. But the prospect 
of heaven is more than all. I fear I am sin- 
fully impatient in so longing after heaven ; but 
it is so glorious ! Christ, not death, is about 
to take me from earth. There is no death to 
the Christian. That glorious gospel takes 
away death." Such a departure is mors sine 
morte, - — a dying without death : it is the be- 
liever's birth-day of eternity, — his last, best 
birthday ; his birth into glory unutterable and 
unending. 

What is it to die? To believers, it is to drop 
the body of this death, and to put on a joyous 
immortality ; to pass from darkness to everlast- 



The Heavenly Home. 225 

ing sunlight; to cease dreaming, and com- 
mence a waking existence ; yes, to awake in 
the likeness of God, — satisfied, fully and for 
ever satisfied. What is it to die? To feel the 
last pang, to shed the last tear, to raise the 
shield of faith against Satan's last dart. It is 
to go home to God ; to open the eyes on the 
enthroned Mediator ; to close the ears upon all 
discords, all sounds of woe, all the falsehoods, 
the maledictions, the blasphemies of earth, and 
open them to the harmonies of heaven. What 
is it to die? It is to stop sinning, to cease 
grieving the Spirit and grieving the Saviour, to 
close up the inconsistencies of terrestrial pro- 
fession, and commence a forever-blameless life 
in bliss. What is it to die? To lean on the 
Almighty for a few steps down a narrow valley ; 
to step out of Jordan, upon the borders of the 
Better Land ; to pass up to the New Jerusa- 
lem ; to enter by one of those gates of pearl 
into the city ; to have ten thousand angels 
come, and utter their cordial welcome ; to see 
the Saviour smile benignantly, and to hear 

15 



226 



The Heavenly Home. 



Him say, "Well done, good and faithful ser- 
vant : enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." 

A. C. Thompson. 



'HE Apostle slept ; a light shone in the prison ; 



An angel touched his side : 
46 Arise," he said ; and quickly he hath risen, 
His fettered arms untied. 

The watchers saw no light at midnight gleaming, 

They heard no sound of feet : 
The gates fly open ; and the saint, still dreaming. 

Stands free upon the street. 

So, when the Christian's eyelid droops and closes 

In nature's parting strife, 
A friendly angel stands where he reposes, 

To wake him up to life. 

He gives a gentle blow, and so releases 

The spirit from its clay ; 
From sin's temptations and from life's distresses 

He bids it come away. 




The Heavenly Home. 227 



It rises up ; and, from its darksome mansion, 

It takes its silent flight ; 
And feels its freedom in the large expansion 

Of heavenly air and light. 

Behind, it hears Time's iron gates close faintly: 

It now is far from them ; 
For it has reached the city of the saintly, — 

The New Jerusalem. 

A voice is heard on earth of kinsfolk weeping 

The loss of one they love ; 
But he has gone where the redeemed are keeping 

A Festival above. 

The mourners throng the way, and from the steeple 

The funeral bell tolls slow ; 
But on the golden streets the holy people 

Are passing to and fro, 

And saying, as they meet, " Rejoice : another, 

Long waited for, is come ; " 
The Saviour's heart is glad ; a younger brother 

Hath reached the Father's home. 



J. D. Burns. 



228 The Heavenly Home. 



/r JpHERE remaineth for the Christian a rest , 
and he looks forward with joyful confi- 
dence to that rest, when he shall depart, and 
be with Christ. When this glorious result of 
his course shall have been attained, his dis- 
pensation of conflicts and sorrows will have 
passed ; and he will find himself in an endur- 
ing state of spiritual rest. Whatever griefs 
have arisen from mere earthly circumstances, 
they will have ceased for ever. There will 
be no lamentation where nothing can be lost. 
There can be no suspense where nothing is 
uncertain. There can be no contest where 
there is no enemy, no repentance where there 
is no sin. There it will have become true, that 
all tears are wiped from the eyes of those who 
are glorified with Christ. 

Under this inviting aspect, the Holy Spirit 
often presents the future dwelling of the re- 
deemed soul. There the weary are at rest. 
It is not, however, mere dormancy of being, — 
a merely negative rest. There is occupation 



The Heavenly Home. 229 



and duty and positive pleasure, suited to the 
enlarged capacities and the holy tendencies of 
glorified spirits. Each wearied believer shall 
participate in this rest, and unite in the glory 
of the Lord, who, for the joy that was set be- 
fore Him, endured the cross and despised the 
shame, and is now set down at the right hand 
of the throne of God. Within him will be 
peace, because all the power and propensities 
of sin have been annihilated for ever. Around 
him there will be peace ; for but one desire and 
feeling shall govern the multitude of the re- 
deemed, and one Master only shall they serve 
and follow. 

But this rest with Christ is not the mere free- 
dom of the soul from sorrow and care. It is 
the pure and spiritual satisfaction and delight 
which the redeemed spirit derives from the 
eternal possession of a Divine Saviour. It is 
the calm and confiding enjoyment of His per- 
fections and His glory ; it is the uninterrupted 
and unending contemplation of what He is, and 
what He has done for His people; it is the 



The Heavenly Home. 



overflowing delight which the purified mind 
and the enlarged heart of the sanctified believer 
experience, in the attainment and secure pos- 
session of an object infinitely precious, long 
sought-for and desired, and in no degree dis- 
appointing the expectations it has awakened ; 
it is the triumphant passage of thought over 
unknown scenes and objects of glory, searching 
still more deeply into the unsearchable riches 
of grace, as revealed and laid up in the only- 
begotten Son of God ; it is the unutterable joy 
of harmony and order, to a soul which is alive 
with the most delicate sensibility to the delight 
which they afford. It is the rest of an affec- 
tionate child in the wise and uniform govern- 
ment of a father's house ; it is the rest of an 
intelligence now angelic, — may I not say 
superangelic, in the experience through which 
it has passed? — in the pure and spotless do- 
minion of the Most High, all whose ways are 
perfect, and whose will is the highest manifes- 
tation of wisdom and love. S. H. Tyng. 



The Heavenly Home. 



* I ""HERE is no night in heaven : 

In that blest world above, 
Work never can bring weariness ; 

For work itself is love. 
There is no night in heaven : 

Yet nightly, round the bed 
Of every Christian wanderer, 

Faith hears an angel tread. 

There is no grief in heaven : 

For life is one glad day, 
And tears are of those former things 

Which all have passed away. 
There is no grief in heaven : 

Yet angels from on high, 
On golden pinions, earthward glide, 

The Christian's tears to dry. 

There is no sin in heaven : 

Behold that blessed throng ; 
All holy is their spotless robe, 

All holy is their song. 
There is no sin in heaven : 

Here, who from sin is free ? 
Yet angels aid us in our strife 

For Christ's true liberty. 



232 The Heavenly Home. 



There is no death in heaven : 

For they who gain that shore 
Have won their immortality, 

And they can die no more. 
There is no death in heaven : 

But, when the Christian dies, 
The angels wait his parted soul, 

And waft it to the skies. 

Canterbury HytnnaU 



TT is a Christian duty to dwell much more on 
the thought of future blessedness than most 
men do. If ever the Apostle's steps began to 
flag, the radiant diadem before him gave new 
vigor to his heart ; and we know how, at the 
close of his career, the vision became more 
vivid and more entrancing : " Henceforth there 
is laid up for me a crown of glory." It is 
our privilege, if we are on our way to God, to 
keep steadily before us the thought of home. 
Make it a matter of habit. Force yourself at 
night, alone, and in the midst of the world's 
bright sights, to pause to think of the heaven 



2 33 



which is yours. Let it calm you and ennoble 
you, and give you cheerfulness to endure. It 
was so that Moses was enabled to live amongst 
all the fascinations of his courtly life, with a 
heart unseduced from his laborious destiny: 
by faith, "esteeming the reproach of Christ 
greater riches than the treasures of Egypt." 
Why? "For he had respect unto the recom- 
pense of the reward." It was so that our Mas- 
ter strengthened His human soul for its sharp 
earthly endurance : " For the joy that was set 
before Him, He endured the cross, despising 
the shame." If we would become heavenly- 
minded, we must let the imagination realize 
the blessedness to which we are moving on. 
Let us think much of rest, — the rest which is 
not of indolence, but of powers in perfect 
equilibrium; the rest which is deep as sum- 
mer midnight, yet full of life and force as 
summer sunshine, — the Sabbath of Eternity. 
Let us think of the love of God, which we 
shall feel, in its full tide, upon our souls. Let 
us think of that marvellous career of sublime 



234 The Heavenly Home. 



occupation, which shall belong to the spirits of 
just men made perfect ; when we shall fill a 
higher place in God's universe, and more con- 
sciously, and with more distinct insight, co 
operate with God in the rule over His Creation . 

F. W. Robertson. 



"1 T 7E have no home on earth below ; 

* * And time is short, and heaven is near : 
Oh that our hearts were weaned so 

That we could live like strangers here ; — 

Like pilgrims that have paused an hour, 

To rest upon some foreign strand ; 
Like banished men that love to pour 

The praises of their Fatherland ! 

Bright are the flowers that God has lent 
To bloom beneath the traveller's tread, 

And beautiful the starry tent 

He spreadeth o'er the pilgrim's head. 

But, in the Land that's far away, 

There needs no light of sun or moon ; 

And flowers that never know decay 
Along its starless shores are strewn. 

Canterbury Hymnal. 



The Heavenly Ho?ne. 235 



J SHALL sin no more. Holiness is hence- 
forth the air I breathe. I know no othei 
now. I have left sin behind me : it will no 
more sully the ground I tread, no more stain 
my white raiment. 

Oh, blessing of perfection ! To sound my 
own heart, and find only purity there ; to 
move at will in spontaneous obedience, as the 
bird floats, and traces wide circles in the lumi- 
nous atmosphere. 

To see truly, to think truly, to feel truly, — 
my heart beats high at such a prospect. This 
breathless pursuit to lay hold of truth ; this 
desperate struggle to retain it: faith, that su- 
preme effort, that combat where the life of the 
soul is at stake, — all this is over, left far 
behind. My eyes behold ; falsehood is anni- 
hilated ; error vanished away. Truth, thy ra- 
diance fills the sky ; thou art the medium in 
which I live. But thou shinest not for me 
alone : thou fillest the universe with thy glory, 
And this is another happiness. 



236 



The Heavenly Ho?ne. 



Thy compassion, Lord, blended with Thy 
justice; Thy justice throbbing with tenderness, 
— these we shall see, these the universe will 
see. Not one accusing sigh will rise up to 
Thy throne. 

There will be music there. No harmony 
here below; not even those marvellous strains, 
chanted by instruments, repeated by our hu- 
man voices, which make us weep as though 
coming to us from the land of the blest ; not 
even those modulations spreading from sphere 
to sphere, infinite in sadness, infinite in joy; 
not even this glory of the ideal, — can give 
any idea of the harmonies with which heaven 
will echo. 

The secrets of creation, the plans of God 
revealed, — harmonies more touching still, — 
it is in these that our thirst of knowledge, ever 
satisfied, never sated, will at last be quenched. 

We shall be active. Heaven has in store for 
us delightsome labors, easy as respiration, re- 
freshing as dew ; and to these there will be no 
end. 



The Heavenly Home. 



A permanent state. This is the fulness of 
joy. My heart can rest in it. For ever ! 

I have felt such bliss, that heaven, I have 
thought, could add nothing to it, — lightning 
flashes of adoration, love, truth, all combined : 
but it was only for a moment ; and the certainty 
that it would end cast its dark shadow over it. 

But in the presence of my God, in His para- 
dise, there will be no end. 

The light will not fade, the heart will not 
fail, the Lord will not hide His face ; nothing 
will pale, nothing will grow cold ; no defection 
will be possible, the full cup will never break, 
our lips never turn away. 

Eternal youth, eternal desire, eternal enjoy- 
ment. And the essence of this eternity, — love. 

Madame De Ga spar in. 



238 The Heavenly Home. 



T)EYOND these chilling winds and gloomy 
skies, 

Beyond death's cloudy portal, 
There is a land where beauty never dies, 
And love becomes immortal, — 

A land whose light is never dimmed by shade, 

Whose fields are ever vernal ; 
Where nothing beautiful can ever fade, 

But bloom for aye eternal. 

We may not know how sweet its balmy air, 

How bright and fair its flowers ; 
We may not hear the songs that echo there, 

Through those enchanted bowers ; 

The city's shining towers we may not see 

With our dim, earthly vision ; 
For death, the silent warder, keeps the key 

That opes these gates Elysian : 

But sometimes, when adown the western sky 

The fiery sunset lingers, 
Its golden gates swing inward noiselessly, 

Unlocked by silent fingers. 



239 



And, while they stand a moment half ajar, 

Gleams from the inner glory 
Stream brightly through the azure vault afar, 

And half reveal the story. 

O land unknown ! O land of love divine ! 

Father all-wise, eternal, 
Guide, guide these wandering, way-worn feet of 
mine 

Into those pastures vernal. 



in order, and the time being come for 
him to haste him away, he also went down to 
the river. Now there was a great calm at that 
time in the river ; wherefore Mr. Standfast, 
when he was about half-way in, stood awhile, 
and talked with his companions that had waited 
upon him thither. And he said, This river has 
been a terror to many ; yea, the thoughts of it 
have also frightened me : but now methinks I 
utand easy ; my foot is fixed upon that on 



N. A. W. Pi 



'RPESTl. 




HEN Mr. Standfast had thus set things 



240 



The Heavenly Home. 



Which the feet of the priests that bare the ark 
of the covenant stood while Israel went over 
Jordan. The waters indeed are to the pal- 
ate bitter, and to the stomach cold; yet the 
thoughts of what I am going to, and of the 
conduct that waits for me on the other side, 
doth lie as a glowing coal at my heart. I see 
myself now at the end of my journey : my toil- 
some days are ended. I am going to see that 
head that was crowned with thorns, and that 
face that was spit upon for me. I have for- 
merly lived by hearsay and faith ; but now I 
go where I shall live by sight, and shall be 
with Him in whose company I delight myself. 
I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of; and, 
wherever I have seen the print of His shoe in 
the earth, there I have coveted to set my foot 
too. His name has been to me as a civet-box ; 
yea, sweeter than all perfumes. His voice to 
me has been most sweet ; and His countenance 
I have more desired than they that have most 
desired the light of the sun. His words I did 
use to gather for my food, and for antidotes 



The Heavenly Home. 



241 



against my faintings. He has held me, and 
hath kept me from mine iniquities; yea, my 
steps hath He strengthened in His way. 

Now while he was thus in discourse, his 
countenance changed, his strong man bowed 
under him ; and after he had said, Take me, 
for I come unto Thee, he ceased to be seen of 
them. 

But glorious it was to see how the open 
region was filled with horses and chariots, with 
trumpeters and pipers, with singers and players 
upon stringed instruments, to welcome the 
pilgrims as they went up, and followed one 
another in at the beautiful gate of the city. 

BUNYAN. 



^"OW, I saw in my dream that these two 
men went in at the gate ; and lo ! as they 
entered, they were transfigured, and they had 
raiment put on that shone like gold. There 
were also that met them with harps and crowns, 
and gave them to them, — the harps to praise 

16 



242 The Heavenly Home* 



withal, and the crowns in token of honor. 
Then I heard in my dream, that all the bells in 
the City rang again for joy, and that it was 
said unto them, "Enter ye into the joy of 
your Lord." 

I also heard the men themselves, that they 
sang with a loud voice, saying, "Blessing, and 
honor, and glory, and power be unto Him that 
sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, 
for ever and ever." 

Now, just as the gates were opened to let in 
the men, I looked in after them, and behold 
the City shone like the sun; the streets also 
were paved with gold; and in them walked 
many men with crowns on their heads, palms 
in their hands, and golden harps, to sing 
praises withal. 

There were also of them that had wings; 
and they answered one another without inter- 
mission, saying, "Holy, holy, holy, is the 
Lord." And after that they shut up the gates ; 
which when I had seen, I wished myself among 

them - BUNYAN. 



The Heavenly Home. 



243 



THEY say the waves are dark and deep, 
That faith has perished in the river ; 
They speak of death with fear, and weep ; 
Shall my soul perish ? — never, never. 

I know that Thou wilt never leave 
The soul that trembles while it clings 

To Thee ; I know Thou wilt achieve 
Its passage on Thine outspread wings, 

I cannot see the golden gate 
Unfolding yet to welcome me ; 

I cannot yet anticipate 

The joy of heaven's jubilee : 

But I will calmly watch and pray, 
Until I hear my Saviour's voice 

Calling my happy soul away 
To see His glory, and rejoice. 




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